JUN 7 im ^ 



' GOD IS SPIRIT." 




i 





s 



THE 



Vanishing of the Prince 

A NARRATIVE OF THE LIFE OF CHRIST FROM THE 
TRIUMPHAL ENTRY TO THE ASCENSION. 



BY 

EDWIN FAXON OSBORN, 
Author of "Anniversary Poems," "Christian 
Growth," " Pluck," Etc. 



KALAMAZOO, MICH. . . ^S. 

PRINCE PUBLISHING COMPANY ^ Ir)i-1H I! 
1898 



2nd COPY, 
1898. 



8085 

Copyright 1898, by 
PRINCE PUBI^ISHING COMPANY. 



The Library 

OF CONHRHss 
WASHINGTON 



DEDICATED 
WITH FILIAL LOVE 
TO 

FATHER. 



PREFACE. 



Man's religious nature, in all probability, 
was never truer to itself than now. Being a 
little shaken, on account of theological contro- 
versy, in their faith in the Bible as an author- 
itative revelation of God's will, the people have 
turned to many a golden calf of human phi- 
losophy, much less reasonable and virtuous 
than the old dogmas and creeds of the 
churches ; by which let it be understood that 
the writer intends to speak very slightingly 
of these modern golden calves ; the dogmas 
and creeds were bad enough. The trouble 
with them has ever been that they were not 
near enough to the exact teaching of the New 
Testament, and this when the New Testament 
was professedly the basis of them all. But 
in the construction of these modern golden 
calves the New Testament is only one of 
many good books ; though probably, on the 
whole, admitted to be the best of all. 

It has ever been true that the people at 
large are not philosophers ; and already the 
modern golden calves are being turned for 

[xi] 



xii 



PREFACE. 



them into a nauseating drink. The millions 
of the world, to-day more than ever before, 
are waiting for the simple gospel of the New 
Testament, presented, not as dogma or creed 
or theology, but as food and drink for the 
soul famished and thirsting in the sand storm 
that buries hope in the desert of life. 

It would seem, then, an easy task to present 
the gospel. If the world is so eager for it, 
certainly there will not be any difficulty in 
securing for the gospel a most enthusiastic 
hearing. Nevertheless, there are some serious 
difficulties in the way. The enthusiasm of 
the injured man, when the physician is seen 
spurring up the road, is somewhat dampened 
when he finds that a limb must be ampu- 
tated. It is one thing to laud the gospel in 
a general way, and quite another thing to 
feel the sword of the Spirit in the joints and 
marrow. One to whom the gospel has come 
soon learns to abhor himself or to abhor the 
gospel. The gospel becomes to men " the 
savour of death unto death " or the savour 
of life unto life.'' This tremendous serious- 
ness is a difficulty in the way of the presenta- 
tion of the gospel. Just as people are ready 
to yield to the influence of the Holy Spirit 



PREFACE. 



Xlll 



and to accept the gospel, they draw back 
alarmed at this seriousness. Shall this seri- 
ousness then be kept out of sight? That 
were to pervert the gospel and to destroy its 
saving power. 

Indeed, the author has for some time been 
convinced that those who present the gospel 
should do so with less reference to the result 
of the presentation, and with more reference 
to unswerving fidelity to the gospel itself. 
The gospel will take care of itself, if men 
will stop tampering with it and adapting it 
to particular conditions and to particular 
people. It will unsparingly adapt itself, if 
it can only get a hearing, without so large 
an admixture of human philosophy and 
prejudice. 

The legitimate work of him who would 
present the gospel is to compare texts, all 
the texts that refer to any given subject; and 
to compile them, but not merely as an ana- 
lytical concordance ; no one would read it. 
Strong medicine must be administered skil- 
fully. The task that the author has set 
himself is to compile the texts of the New 
Testament that bear npon any and every 
particular subject there treated ; and to pre- 



xiv 



PREFACE. 



sent the teaching of the New Testament upon 
each subject without reference to philosophy 
or theology or creed ; and to put this teaching 
into attractive form ; but not in any way to 
modify the teaching itself. This is the work 
of a lifetime, and the present volume is only 
one of many. This book is the first of a 
series of five, called The Prince Books, which 
take up the teaching of the New Testament 
concerning the Final Things. The present 
volume and the next, Abomination of Desola- 
tion, have to do, however, more with the latter 
part of the life of Christ and with the history 
of Jerusalem than with New Testament teach- 
ing. The other three are stories written from 
a careful analysis of the teaching of the New 
Testament. They are : Claiming the King- 
dom, The Return of the Prince, and The 
Reign of the Prince. 

The author is thankful for the cordial re- 
ception that has been given to his " Christian 
Growth," and hopes that these later works may 
meet the approval of many readers ; but espe- 
cially that they may meet the approval of the 
Prince himself. 

Kalamazoo, Mich., 

Easter, 1898. 



CONTENTS. 



Page. 

I^IST OF Il,I,USTRATlONS .... XVII 

CHAPTER I. 
Thk TriumphaIv Entry . . . -19 

CHAPTER II. 
Thk Turn of thk Tide . . . . 40 

CHAPTER III. 
Gkthskmank 52 

CHAPTER IV. 
Thk Arrkst 70 

CHAPTER V. 
The Jewish Triai, 93 

CHAPTER VI. 
The Roman Triai. no 

CHAPTER VII. 
Via DoIvOrosa ... . , . 138 

[XV] 



xvi CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER VIII. 
G01.GOTHA . . . ... . 157 

CHAPTER IX. 
The Empty Tomb . . . . . .178 

CHAPTER X. 
A WaIvK of Unbewkf . . . . 201 

CHAPTER XI. 
Departing Doubts 222 

CHAPTER XII. 
Dawn on Tiberias 242 

CHAPTER XIII. 
On the Mountain in Gai,ii,ee . . .265 

CHAPTER XIV. 
O1.1VET Once More 284 



The Harmony of the Period . , . 305 
Scripture Index 315 



LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 



PAGE. 

Beit Lahm — Bethlehem, . . . . Frontispiece 

The Ford of Jordan, . . . . . . 21 

Jerusalem, From Mount of Olives, . . .31 
Christ's Entry into Jerusalem, by Dore, . . 37 
Casting out the Money-changers, dy Hofmann, . 45 
Christ in Gethsemane, by Hofmann, ... 57 
Rock of the Apostles, ...... 65 

Tower of Antonio, ...... 77 

Christ Taken Captive, by Hofmann, . . .85 
Christ Before the High Priest, by Goltzius^ . loi 
Judas and Peter, by De Vinci { hast Supper), . . 113 
Christ Before Fi-late, by Munkacsy, . . . 119 
Dream of Pilate's Wife, by Dore, . . . .125 

Christ Leaving the Praetorium, by Dore, . . 131 
Pilate, Washing His Hands, by Durer^ . . . 135 
Valley of Gihon, ...... 143 

Christ Fallen, by Raphael, ..... 147 

Golgotha, by Gerome, . . . . . '155 

His Accusation Written, ..... 163 

The First Easter Dawn, by T/w/nson, . . 181 
Christ Appearing to Mary Magdalene, by Plockhurst, 191 
The Walk to Emmaus, by Plockhurst, . . . 213 
Christ, the Consoler, by Plockhurst, . . . 235 
Fountain of the Virgin, Nazareth, . . . 249 
Tiberias (Galilee), . . . . . . .261 

The Mount of Beatitudes, .... 267 

Mount Tabor, 287 

Tmi Ascension, by Pacchiarotto, .... 299 

[ xvii ] 



Vanishing of the Prince. 



CHAPTER I. 

THE TRIUMPHAL ENTRY. 

His work in Galilee is done. He will visit 
Galilee again, however ; again his eye will fall 
upon the little inland sea ; but not for long, 
and not again in his present mortal state. 
Moreover, his farther duties call him to Jeru- 
salem. He therefore " steadfastly set his face 
to go to Jerusalem." 

This man of Galilee is accompanied by sev- 
eral other Galilean men, who follow him as 
disciples. The whole company is journeying 
toward Jerusalem. As they approach a vil- 
lage of Samaria toward nightfall the Rabbi 
sends certain of his disciples forward to pro- 
cure lodging for the night ; but the Samari- 
tans will not receive them. Therefore, foot- 
2 , [19] 



20 THE VANISHING OF THE PRINCE. 

sore and travel-worn, they go on into the night 
toward another village. 

The time is drawing near when this man 
whom these disciples call Rabbi and Master 
is to create a great commotion in the ancient 
city of David. He has a mission to perform ; 
and in order to accomplish it a great multi- 
tude must become personally interested in 
him. Therefore he sends forth seventy of his 
disciples to preach his doctrine and to pro- 
claim him the Messiah. Wherever these men 
go they spread the fame of their Master 
from whom their miraculous power is derived. 

This last journey to Jerusalem was not to 
be made hastily. The Rabbi, whom many 
called " the Nazarene " because he was reared 
at Nazareth, accompanied by his most inti- 
mate disciples, crossed over the Jordan into 
the regions of Persea. There on the east side 
of the river he preached in many of their vil- 
lages, while slowly making his way to his 
great final work in Jerusalem. 

At last they came to Jericho. His fame 
had preceded him. Everywhere he had per- 
formed marvelous deeds of blessing and of 
healing. Not, far from the city the multitude 
that accompanied him was annoyed by the 



< 
n 
p< 
o 
I — > 

o 

Q 
O 



THE TRIUMPHAL ENTRY. 



23 



continuous loud calling of a blind man who 
was begging by the wayside. Those who 
went on before rebuked him, and sought to 
keep him quiet ; but the man was determined 
not to lose this one last chance of having his 
sight given him. He therefore cried the more 
earnestly, and the Nazarene heard him and 
granted his request. 

The wonderful miracle aroused the enthu- 
siasm of the multitude to a still greater pitch. 
They all united in giving praise to God. And 
as they passed slowly on, praising, multitudes 
more joined the great throng that like a mighty 
river, fed by many tributaries, pursued its way 
toward Jerusalem. 

The steadfast purpose of Jesus of Nazareth 
to go to his doom at Jerusalem was sublime. 
Nor was this heroic purpose sublime in any 
ordinary sense. This Nazarene could easily 
have avoided these complications that were 
fast entangling his life in a web of malicious, 
murderous hatred. All the world was his for 
the claiming. He was as conscious of this 
fact now as he was when Satan offered him 
all the world in the mountain of temptation. 
But he refused it then, and he will refuse it 
to the end. The real sublimity of his deliber- 



24 'THE VANISHING OF THE PRINCE. 



ate choice of suffering and final death consists 
in the unselfish love that prompted the great 
sacrifice. The most heroic deeds of men are 
often prompted by a self-sacrifice that is in 
reality selfishness. The love of that which is 
one's own is hardly a step removed from love 
of self. Few souls ever rise to that sublime 
height whence love's blessings flow to all 
alike, and whence love's yearnings reach out 
toward another as earnestly as they do toward 
one's self and one's friends. The Nazarene 
did not despise the ties of kindred; but he 
could not narrow his soul to the love of kin- 
dred only, nor even to the love of one great 
people, Israel. He is on his way to Jeru- 
salem now, to die for all men of all races and 
of all degrees of sinfulness. Even a little of 
this sublime spirit in the hearts of all men 
would transform the world. 

The multitude has passed on and is now 
come to mount Olivet at a point not far from 
Bethany and not far from Bethphage. The 
whole country about here is always astir at 
the sound of the name of the Nazarene ; for 
here at Bethany live Mary and Martha and 
their brother Lazarus whom Jesus raised from 
the dead. All the little village turns out and 



'THE TRIUMPHAL ENTRY. 



25 



joins the crowd. The enthusiasm is every 
moment growing greater. Many of the mul- 
titude run on ahead crying aloud their praises. 

This great throng is slowly transforming 
from a following crowd into a heralding mul- 
titude. The people themselves hardly realize 
what they are doing. They have in previous 
months shown this same enthusiasm ; but 
heretofore the Nazarene has quieted their wild 
cries or has removed himself from them. To- 
day, however, he walks quietly on, conversing 
with his disciples, or with his head bowed in 
deep meditation. The eager people, this time 
unchecked, grow more and more enthusiastic. 
Some one of those who had before in Galilee 
hinted that this was the Messiah, the great 
deliverer of Israel, now renews his sugges- 
tion to take the Nazarene and make him a 
king. At first the suggestion is made in a 
whisper in the ear of one and another, then 
several are seen close pressing each other as 
they talk of this matter in their walk. One 
runs from such a group and another group 
forms around him, and so the great company 
becomes largely engaged in a comparatively 
subdued conversation. The great noise ceases. 
The very air, however, seems tremulous with 



26 THE VANISHING OF THE PRINCE. 

the fast forming purpose of the people. The 
silence is like the awful stillness that precedes 
the outbreak of a more terrific storm. 

As the noise of shouting grows less, the 
conversation of the people becomes audible, 
even though the voices are not raised. The 
effect, however, is as if the people had grown 
bolder and were talking louder. This is the 
effect upon the people themselves, and they 
actually do begin to talk louder. Now and 
then the name " Messiah " is heard distinctly 
in animated conversation. In one group the 
people are especially animated. One man de- 
clares in a positive voice as if to settle farther 
controversy : " I say, he is the Messiah ! " 
This man is almost frightened at his own loud 
utterance. Many in other groups have heard 
his words. Whether in conversation or not, 
and when no longer in conversation but in 
exclamation, no one knows ; but the one word 
" Messiah " becomes more and more promi- 
nent in the again increasing noise of the mul- 
titude, until all in an instant it bursts forth in 
a long, triumphant shout. 

The immediate cause of the shout was the 
mounting of the Nazarene upon an ass's colt. 
The time for Christ to assert himself had 



THE TRIUMPHAL ENTRY. 27 



come. . Some moments before he had sent his 
disciples to Bethphage opposite which they had 
come in their journey, to procure this beast of 
prophecy. They had returned, and just as the 
people were beginning to talk loudly of the 
Messiahship of the Nazarene, his disciples re- 
moved their outer garments and placed them 
on the ass^s colt and lifted their Master onto 
the back of this humble beast. 

Now the cry is unrestrained. Hosanna ! " 
" Hosanna in the highest ! " Blessed is he 
that Cometh in the name of the Lord ! " Then 
was fulfilled the prophecy of Isaiah, made more 
than seven hundred years before, in which he 
said : — 

"Tell ye the daughter of Zion, 
Behold thy King cometh unto thee, 
Meek, and riding upon an ass, 
And upon a colt the foal of an ass. ' ' 

The fulfilment of this prophecy is marvel- 
ous. But no more marvelous than is the ful- 
filment of many other prophecies of which we 
know. And indeed, the constant fulfilment 
of prophecies of which we never heard or 
dreamed, if we could know of them, would fill 
us with amazement. Many of the people who 
made up this throng were well versed in the 



28 THE VANISHING OF THE PRINCE. 



Hebrew scriptures, and some of tliem may have 
remembered these words of Isaiah ; but un- 
doubtedly the vast majority never thought of 
them at all until their attention was called to 
the wonderful fulfilment taking place before 
their very eyes. In prophecy, this great mul- 
titude had been coming for seven hundred 
years along this road from Bethany to Jeru- 
salem to this particular point which lies over 
against Bethphage where this ass's colt had 
been for seven hundred years in waiting to 
meet them and the Messiah who came in their 
midst. Along the path of human descent 
through succeeding generations for seven 
hundred years this company had been coming 
unto this hour. Son had followed father, and 
grandson and great-grandson had followed 
each his grandsire of all degrees until to-day, 
according to the word of the Lord by his 
prophet, the Messiah is here, the humble beast 
is here, and the shouting multitude is here. 
All but the Messiah are unconscious of their 
long preparation, are unconscious that they 
are following a path marked out for them, 
suppose that they are following a path of their 
own choosing. As indeed they are. 

Here is the mystery of divine providence 



THE TRIUMPHAL ENTRY. 2g 



and of human freedom. THat we go our own 
ways, we know. We may not go the way of 
our choice ; but after all we never go a step 
contrary to our volition unless we are physic- 
ally forced, and then we go in body only. We 
may go where we would not choose to go under 
different circumstances ; but the circumstances 
give to our volition a different balance, and so 
we often will to go in ways contrary to our 
desire ; but for all that we go of our own final 
will even though against our desire. But that 
our will is influenced by circumstances to act 
often contrary to our desire, is proof that 
there is a certain trend of circumstances 
over which we do not always have control. 
In a word, there is providence. High over 
all is God. Worlds move in destined orbits. 
Kingdoms rise and fall according to God's 
will. Man is free in his own little realm; 
but God is free over all. He wills that 
men shall be free so far as concerns the 
choice of their own spiritual states, and 
so far as concerns their surrounding circum- 
stances up to the point of interference with 
the great ends that he has in view. But — 
" His purposes are ripening fast, 
Unfolding every hour." 



30 THE VANISHING OF THE PRINCE. 

God himself will drive the chariot of human 
destiny, never permitting the reins of govern- 
ment to pass out of his own hands. But he 
lets each man drive his own little chariot. 
The man may drive alongside in joyful fellow- 
ship, or he may face about and charge the 
chariot of God. Of course, he will be trodden 
down, but he is still spirit free, and from the 
dust he may curse God forever. These things 
being so, the dream of prophecy is certain 
and the interpretation thereof sure." It is 
better so. Notwithstanding the fact that this 
upstart race would love so well to drive the 
big chariot, we are all safer because God drives 
it, saying to each of us, My son, be content 
to drive your pony." 

The route which this long-coming multitude 
took from Bethany was probably the one that 
passed around the southern side of Olivet. 
This road passes over the ridge that joins 
Olivet with the Mount of Offense on the 
south. Just before reaching this ridge there 
is a vale from which the city cannot be seen. 
Then, emerging from this depression onto the 
ridge, the city comes suddenly into full view. 

Here the enthusiasm of the multitude 
bursts all restraint. They spread their gar- 



THE TRIUMPHAL ENTRY. 



33 



ments in the path of the Nazarene. Others 
run on before, and breaking off twigs from the 
palm-trees, strew them in the way. A few run 
on to Jerusalem with the news that the Mes- 
siah is coming. The news of his approach 
has run before them, however, and already a 
crowd of enthusiastic people is crossing the 
Kedron to meet him. The whole air is tremu- 
lous with the shouts of praise and procla- 
mation. Before, behind, far out toward the 
Mount of Offense, far up the palm- wooded 
slope of Olivet, the grand, triumphal shout 
rolls in one continuous thunder of unstinted 
adulation. 

But we are impressed with the feeling that 
there is something incongruous in this. The 
conduct of the multitude declares a worldly 
ambition that we feel sure will not be grati- 
fied. The nature of the work of the Nazarene 
has been unmistakable. Worldly ambition 
does not have any place in his soul. This 
multitude is doomed to disappointment. And 
then what? Will they be enraged? If all 
this splendid enthusiasm should be turned into 
rage, what would become of the Nazarene ? 

Moreover, other dangers are about him. 
There are those walking beside him who do 



34 'THE VANISHING OF 'THE PRINCE. 



not believe that he is the Messiah. Even now 
they are saying to him, " Master, rebuke thy 
disciples.'' He answers them that if these 
should hold their peace the very stones would 
cry out. That which is to be done in Jeru- 
salem during the next few days must not be 
done in a corner. The greatest event of all 
history is being enacted, and in the providence 
of God it shall be proclaimed aloud that the 
eye of the whole world may behold the things 
that are done. 

But the Nazarene is not elated by the cries 
of the multitude. If we have been certain 
before that this throng was destined to disap- 
pointment, we are more certain of it now that 
we come nearer to the object of their enthu- 
siasm. He rides quietly on. His whole de- 
meanor as he rides upon the docile, low-headed 
beast is that of meekness. The enthusiasm 
of the people is greatest at a distance from the 
Nazarene. His appearance does not give en- 
couragement to their wild, worldly schemes. 
See ! He is weeping. Hark ! He is speaking. 
Those in his immediate vicinity hear his words. 
" If thou hadst known in this day, even thou, 
the things which belong unto peace ! but now 
they are hid from thine eyes. For the days 



THE TRIUMPHAL ENTRY. 35 



shall come upon tliee, when thine enemies 
shall cast up a bank about thee, and compass 
thee round, and keep thee in on every side, 
and shall dash thee to the ground, and thy 
children within thee ; and they shall not leave 
in thee one stone upon another ; because thou 
knewest not the time of thy visitation." 

Those who hear the Nazarene are made 
thoughtful and silent by his earnest words of 
lamentation. His whole soul is intensely 
moved. The tears he sheds are not tears of 
weakness. His lamentation is not the lamen- 
tation of a disappointed aspirant for worldly 
fame. These tears and these earnest words 
are wrung from a heart that grieves for the 
sins of his people. And the enthusiasm of 
this great multitude, heralding him accord- 
ing to prophecy as the Messiah, adds also to 
his grief. He knows well the disappointment 
in store for them. They expect him in a few 
moments more to lead them boldly into the 
ancient city of their fathers, to proceed unfal- 
teringly to the throne of Herod, and with one 
majestic declaration of his claim, accompanied 
by that same supernatural power that had fed 
the multitudes upon the mountain-side in 
Galilee with the few loaves and fishes, with 



36 THE VANISHING OF THE PRINCE. 

the same supernatural power that had called 
Lazarus forth from the grave, with the same 
supernatural power that had raised the widow's 
son at Nain, to dethrone Herod and to en- 
throne himself. He grieves, not that his 
earthly life is drawing toward its close, not 
that he must suffer as no soul ever siiffered 
before or since, but that the human heart is 
so set upon its own selfishness that it cannot 
recognize in him a spiritual king, a Saviour 
of the world from sin. 

They begin the descent from the ridge into 
the valley of the Kedron. The multitude that 
has gone on before has stirred the city, al- 
ready prepared by the wonderful fame of the 
Nazarene to be so stirred, from its center to 
its outer walls. The approaching multitude 
is but a handful to the uncounted throngs that 
hasten out to meet him. Herod is alarmed. 
The leaders of the Jewish people, themselves 
as blind to the real nature of the expected 
Messiah as the multitude itself, hating this 
Nazarene because of his spiritual doctrine and 
unworldly ambition, are alarmed with Herod. 
From mouth to mouth the question passes, 
''Who is this?" And from the multitude 
the answer is thundered back, the answer the 



THE TRIUMPHAL ENTRY. 



39 



reverberations of wliicli have come rolling 
down through myriad years, the answer that 
frightened Herod and the hypocrites, the an- 
swer so little understood when made, alas ! so 
little understood to-day : This is the prophet, 
Jesus, from Nazareth of Galilee." 

But Herod had no need to fear, because of 
the approach of this Nazarene, for the stabil- 
ity of his throne. When the city gate was 
reached, expectancy silenced the shouting, 
and disappointment forbade its renewal. The 
meek and lowly Prince of Peace passed quietly 
into the temple, looked about, was grieved 
because of its desecration, turned back again, 
almost alone, over the same route by which 
he had just come amid the shouts and accla- 
mations of the multitude, and made his way 
to Bethany. 



CHAPTER 11. 



THE TURN OF THE TIDE. 

Where is the Nazarene ? " The question 
passes from lip to lip. No satisfactory answer 
is returned. When the multitude that saw 
him enter the temple began to be im- 
patient at the delay, and to grow feverish in 
their haste to push on to the throne of Herod, 
they could not find their new king. They 
waited, they searched the temple, they sought 
him everywhere, but without finding him. At 
last the truth came out. Some one of those 
who were nearest him when he entered the 
temple, saw him go quietly out with his disci- 
ples. Already the day was far spent. The 
early dusk and the great concourse of people 
made his return unobserved to the city gate 
an easy task. Long before the anxious mul- 
titude had given up, at least for that day, the 
enthronement of their newly chosen king, that 
king himself with his twelve disciples was 
drawing near to Bethany. 

The multitude was disappointed. More 
than that, when the people saw clearly that 

[40] 



THE TURN OF THE TIDE. 4 1 

the Nazarene had no intention of taking the 
place that they were ready to give him, they 
were indignant, and many of them were in a 
rage. Already began to be heard those pre- 
monitory mutterings that forewarn of the 
storm of hatred that would soon bear him 
without the city walls amid howls and impre- 
cations as loud and long as had been those 
higher pitched Hosannas with which they 
had borne him in triumph into the city. 

The change in the temper of this multitude 
is characteristic of human nature. So long as 
men have their wills, they are amicable and 
full of praise; but once let even God assert a 
different judgment and take a different course 
from that which they have chosen, and Hosan- 
nas become howls of rage. This is charac- 
teristic of human nature in its unregenerate 
state. But when man has recognized the 
better judgment of God and has consented to 
it, then his confidence in God forbids his rage 
at God's strange unwillingness to take the 
throne of this world. 

Moreover, this multitude had no just cause 
for their wrath. The Nazarene had not even 
once encouraged their ambitious hopes. They 
had their own desires and their own purposes, 
3 



42 THE VANISHING OF THE PRINCE. 



and they no doubt interpreted the act of Jesus 
in riding upon the colt and in permitting their 
shouts of praise, as acquiescence in their will. 
But if they had recalled his past life among 
them, if they had recalled his sermon on the 
mount, if they had seen his tears and had 
listened to his lament over Jerusalem, they 
might have known that they were building 
their hopes upon their own plans and not 
upon the plans of God. 

The reason why people are so often misled 
in their interpretation of God's will is that 
they are not seeking to know and to do his 
will ; but that they are seeking to bring God 
to do their wills. The disappointment of the 
multitude is the doom of all such folly. 

The Nazarene this evening threw away his 
last chance to become king of the Jews in a 
temporal sense. A few hours ago he was the 
most popular person in Judsea, and was safe 
from any physical danger. But from now on 
to the end his life will be hunted. The palm 
branches that were strewn before him a few 
hours ago with shouts of praise are already 
wilting under his returning feet. But the 
Nazarene is in better spirits than he was a few 
hours ago. His life for the past three years 



THE TURN OF THE TIDE. 



43 



has been a definition of a word to-day for the 
first time spoken with su£6.cient emphasis to 
make it heard by all Jews and by all the world. 
By his life he has defined the term " Messiah." 
To-day he has proclaimed himself to be the 
Messiah that his life has defined. The Jews 
themselves had to-day proclaimed him to be 
Messiah; but they had failed to understand 
his definition of the term. 

The night was peaceful in Bethany. The 
weary men slept well, and in the morning re- 
turned again to Jerusalem and to the temple. 

On the way to the city, the Nazarene saw 
in the distance a fig tree. He now by an act 
that seemed strange no doubt to the disciples, 
taught them a great lesson, and explained 
somewhat his action of the preceding day. 
The explanation is no doubt better understood 
to-day than it was then. It was made for suc- 
ceeding generations perhaps more than for the 
disciples who witnessed it. The fig tree was 
luxuriant with leaves. Coming to it, the Mas- 
ter did not find even one fig. The tree typi- 
fies the Jewish nation. It is full of profession 
of godliness, but it does not bear the fruit of 
godliness. The Master curses the fig tree, 
and it withers away. So the curse of God 



44 ™b vanishing of the prince. 



upon this godless, but mucli professing nation, 
sliall cause it to wither away. This parable 
in deeds is like that parable in words which 
Jesus spoke concerning the vineyard let out 
to husbandmen who refused to return the fruit 
in its season to the Lord of the vineyard. 

All along the path of life cursed and with- 
ered fig trees toss their barren, naked arms in 
the gentle winds that blow at the time of the 
first ripe figs. 

With this parable fresh in their minds the 
disciples followed the Nazarene into the tem- 
ple. The place was desecrated. Already the 
money changers were in their places, and 
those who bought and sold doves were present 
with their dove-cotes. These desecraters know 
the Nazarene. Some of them, three years ago, 
felt the smart upon their backs of the scourge 
of small cords with which he then drove them 
out. Now again he has come to cleanse his 
Father's house. He drove them out. With 
a firm hand he overturned the tables of the 
money changers. There was not a trace of 
malice in his face or manner. There was the 
holy wrath of one who has come to avenge 
wrong and to rescue sacred things from un- 
holy uses. "Take these things hence," he 



li^ 

CASTING OUT THK MONKY CHANGKRS. 



TH^ TURN OF THE TIDE. 47 



commanded in the firm, steady tones of au- 
thority. "It is written, My house shall be 
called a house of prayer: but ye make it a 
den of robbers." Amid muttered curses and 
amid the Hosannas of the children, these 
men who were seeking to make gain out 
of the temple service gathered up what they 
could of their belongings and made good their 
escape. 

This incident is often used unfairly by en- 
thusiastic cleansers of temples nowadays, to 
prove that all forms of church work, except 
that which is directly spiritual, should be 
driven out of the church edifice. Passing, for 
the moment, the consideration of the justice 
of their position with reference to the use or 
misuse of the church building, it is important 
to notice here that the cases are not wholly 
parallel. In all the multiplied devices of this 
day for raising money by means of church 
fairs, sociables, suppers, and in other ways, 
there cannot be found the case where these 
things are done for personal gain. The pro- 
ceeds of all these money-raising schemes go 
to the general work of the church and not for 
the emolument of any person or company of 
persons. 



48 THE VANISHING OF THE PRINCE. 

These buyers and sellers in the temple at 
Jerusalem were doing business on their own 
account and for their own personal benefit. 
Had all this bu3dng and selling and mone^^ 
changing in the temple been carried on in the 
name of the temple service and had the pro- 
ceeds all gone directly into the temple treas- 
ury, would Jesus have approved it? It is 
evidentl}^ one thing to desecrate the temple 
for selfish ends, aud quite another thing to 
desecrate the temple for the ends of the church. 
To desecrate the temple for selfish ends — that 
deserves the rebuke that Jesus gave these 
men. To desecrate the temple for the sake 
of the temple service — that — that is doing 
evil that good may come. Shall we do evil 
that good may come " ? God forbid." 

The desecraters are gone. The children 
come in larger numbers, cr3dng Hosanna 
to the son of David." The lame are brought 
in. The blind are led in b}^ the hand. The 
sick are brought in on their couches. The}^ 
go out, walking, seeing, carr3dng their couches. 
The}^ go out, an ever increasing compau}^, ever 
swelling the cries of praise that roll through 
the temple arches in the blended soprano of 
little children, the high tenor of bo^^s, and the 



The turn of the tide. 



49 



deep basso of men wlio never spoke before. 
The sound of buying and selling lias given 
place to this grandly swelling hymn of praise 
to God who has given such power unto men. 
This is better. This is music in the ears of 
men^and of angels. This is praise in ex eel- 
sis to the God to whom the temple has been 
builded. Let the echoes of our meeting-houses 
to-day be awakened only by these glorious 
sounds of a distinctly spiritual service. 

But this change is displeasing to the Scribes 
and Pharisees and elders of the temple. Such 
a spiritual service does not tally with their 
spiritual state. Moreover, they are displeased 
because this work of cleansing has been done 
without their consent, even without consult- 
ing their opinion, or asking their co-operation. 
The authority which this Nazarene assumed 
is exceedingly offensive to them. What does 
he mean by this ? Moreover the cries of the 
children and of those who have been healed 
seem to them blasphemous. They call this 
man the son of David — the Messiah. Stung 
by all these things, they came to Jesus and 
called his attention to the cries of the people, 
hardly expecting, after the experience of the 
preceding day, that he would silence them; 



50 THE VANISHING OF THH PRINCH. 



but nevertheless making their indignant pro- 
test. The Nazarene assured them : " Yea : 
did ye never read, Out of the mouth of babes 
and sucklings thou hast perfected praise ? " 

So it has ever been and so it will ever be. 
Those who will not bring their souls into 
complete subjection to the spiritual service of 
God's house, but who still wish to have some 
part in the service of that house, will demand 
a service that is not spiritual — which is no 
service at all — and when times of visitation 
from God come with their cleansing power, 
these will be offended. 

It turned out just as these worldly-minded 
religionists expected, the Nazarene refused to 
still the cries of the people. Indeed he quoted 
from the prophet in such a way as to assure 
them that the cries of these people concerning 
himself were true. Indeed, if these blinded 
men would but have opened their eyes to see 
the wonders wrought by this Nazarene, even 
while he was speaking with them, they too 
would have believed that he was the Messiah. 
But they were self-blinded. 

Throughout the remainder of this day and 
through the morrow the chief priests and 
elders and others sought to catch him in his 



THE TURN OF THE TIDE. 5I 

talk, and to secure evidence against him that 
would warrant them in putting him to death. 
By means of his marvelous doctrine, taught 
with consummate skill, sect by sect he put 
them all to silence. But their defeat in argu- 
ment only added to their hatred, and the pur- 
pose to kill him was only restrained from 
execution because they feared the people, who 
believed in him. They will have their way 
with him before many days, however. That 
angry multitude that wanted to make him 
king can be easily won to shout against him, 
and the company that supports him in the 
temple is comparatively small. The tide is 
turning and will soon bear him out onto the 
boundless seas of eternity. 

The great feast of the passover is drawing 
near. The paschal lamb will soon be slain, 
and this year not in type only, but also in 
reality. 



CHAPTER III. 



GETHSEMANE. 

Bethany lies snugly in a beautiful valley on 
tlie eastern slope of the Mount of Olives about 
two miles from Jerusalem. My friend and I 
were there, by the courtesy of Imagination, at 
the time of the events here recorded. 

" It is a beautiful night, but very still, un- 
usually still. The moonlight floods the whole 
country with its mellow sheen. The moon 
will not set for some hours yet, although it is 
now midnight. Every one has gone to Jeru- 
salem to the passover feast, and it is so 
strangely quiet, and the silence is so oppress- 
ive that we cannot sleep ; let us also go." 

We climbed the eastern slope of the moun- 
tain in our westward walk toward Jerusalem. 
After going about a mile by the road that 
leads over the mountain, we came to the sum- 
mit, from which, a mile farther, the city aglow 
with light was seen. 

"It is not so lonely here in sight of these 
thousands of lights, beside which several per- 

[52] 



GETHSEMANE. 



53 



sons are known to watch. Yet it is very soli- 
tary when we look away from the city ; and a 
very solitary path lies between ns and the city 
wall. Let ns go on however and retnrn with 
onr neighbors who will make a pleasant com- 
pany." 

We began the descent, passing soon into 
the deep shadow of the interwoven boughs of 
olive, palm, and pomegranate trees, then into 
a patch of bright moonlight, then into shadow 
again. 

Hark I See that group of men standing 
there in the moonlight near that olive orchard 
by the path. Who are they ? Why are they 
there at this time of night? " 

A closer observation revealed the tunic and 
the loose outer garment of the Jew. 

They are a company of Jews, and they have 
evidently just come from the city," I answered. 

"But for what purpose have they come at 
this untimely hour?" 

They are all gathered about one man who 
is dressed in the white robe of the rabbi. 
They are listening intently while he speaks. 

Is this some plot ? Can they be thieves or 
highwaymen ? " asked my friend in a whisper. 

They move out from the path into the 



54 "["HK VANISHING OF THE PRINCE. 



shadow of the palms. They have gone into 
the orchard, and there have stopped. The 
rabbi is speaking to them again. The moon- 
light falls full upon his face, a sad face, so 
very sad. A wonderful face. 

" Why ! It is Jesus of Nazareth, he who 
has been doing such wonderful acts of healing 
throughout the country of late, and these are 
his disciples. Have you heard that the chief 
priests are trying to get charges against him 
that will warrant his execution?" 

"Is it possible ! His life and teachings are 
most peaceful and helpful." 

The disciples stand awed in his presence. 
Their pale faces and wide open eyes bear wit- 
ness to their anxiety and to the supernatural 
influence of their Master. Yet they are even 
now dropping into easier postures, seemingly 
from very fatigue and sorrow ; and as he 
chooses three of their number and goes on a 
little farther, those who are left recline upon 
the dewy grass and almost immediately their 
eyes close heavily. 

" Let us pass around the square enclosure 
of the garden to the side and see where Jesus 
and the three have gone," said I. 

Here they are ! See the face of Jesus I 



GETHSEMANE. 



55 



Is that strange expression the effect of the 
moonlight ? " 

''No, it is a look of awful woe. Listen! 
He is speaking to the three." 

" My soul is exceeding sorrowful, even unto 
death : abide ye here, and watch with me." 

He goes farther on. The disciples seem to 
be very weary, and they sit down upon the 
tender spring grass to wait and to watch. 
Jesus has stopped " about a stone's cast " 
from them and is praying. 

" Let us not intrude farther, the time is too 
solemn, the place is too sacred, and his suffer- 
ing is too awful." 

The disciples see him as he goes forward 
and falls upon his face. The strange silence 
of the midnight hour is upon us. The young 
leaves are too tender to rustle. The birds are 
sleeping with their heads beneath their wings. 
The stillness of an oriental night is over us. 
Our hearts seem to be beating audibly. The 
gentlest of night zephyrs brings, upon its 
silent wing, something of suffering from the 
form bowed yonder in its agony, and breathes 
it around us. 

''Hark!" 

On the breath of the night air comes to the 



56 THE VANISHING OF THE PRINCE. 



dreamy ears of the disciples these low and 
broken words of prayer : " O my Father, if 
it be possible, let this cup pass from me: 
nevertheless not as I will, but as thou 
wilt." 

The wearied disciples were half asleep ; but 
this throbbing voice of suffering brings them 
to a sitting posture, and they become witnesses 
of Christ's struggle with the weakness of his 
human nature. But their eyes were heavy 
with sorrow. They were exhausted from the 
strain of the past few weeks. They slowly 
sank back. The low words of prayer came 
fainter and fainter on their drowsy sense. 
Nature had her will. They slept. 

There are times in all human lives when 
sorrow drives men to some lone retreat, away 
from the noise of the multitude that does not 
care how much their hearts may ache, where 
they may weep in silence, and where they 
may cry out to God until their souls have 
spent their grief and their present strength to 
suffer. If in such times of affliction some 
such retreat can be found, the suffering soul 
is blessed. But if there be near no eye to 
pity and no hand to save, the seclusion be- 
comes more awful in its loneliness than is the 



CHRIST IN GKTHSEMANE. 



GETHSEMANE. 



59 



heartless crowd. What the soul desires is the 
seclusion, with one or two whom it loves and 
in whom it can trust, within call ; so that it 
can spend its intenser grief in utter loneli- 
ness, but after that can calm itself and go out 
into the presence of those who long to drop 
the tear of sympathy, and to speak the tremu- 
lous word of love. 

It is human nature to lift up to those who 
have seen one weep, the face that asks with 
pathetic pleading the poor boon of a tear of 
sympathy. Jesus was human. That poor, 
crouching body within the mottled moonlight 
under the palm-tree's shadow, had only seen 
God that once upon the mountain of transfig- 
uration. It had never been away from the 
Earth. It had not seen much of the Earth. It 
was a human body ; but it was animated by 
the Spirit of God. And this spirit now suf- 
fered the weight of the accumulated sins of 
ages. The doom of men was on the Christ. 
Does the dying murderer writhe in his re- 
morse ? Do his hands seem to his glazing eyes 
to be red with blood ? See that bowed form 
under the palm-tree in Gethsemane. That is 
the Son of God bearing this murderer's re- 
morse. Have there been many murderers 



6o THE VANISHING OF THE PRINCE. 



since Cain slew Abel ? Will tliere be many 
more? Ah, the remorse of all, with awful 
cries and groans, pours from the past and 
from the future into the soul that dwells in 
that poor body prone under yonder palm-tree. 
Have there been adulterers, have there been 
thieves, have drunkards raved, have their ac- 
cursed families suffered ? The remorse, the 
suffering, the sting of it all now pierces the 
soul of him w^ho yonder lifts his pale face 
toward the cold moon, and cries to be delivered 
from this cup of sin, the taste of which his 
pure soul never knew till then. Do men re- 
ject his mercy? Were they now preparing 
in Jerusalem to spurn him ? This, too, he 
bears. He sees that in that moment of dark- 
ness on the cross, now so near at hand, he 
must not only enter hell ; but he sees that 
the whole of hell, eternal in duration, must be 
compressed in one moment into his soul. He 
sees that all that had ever been suffered and 
that all that will ever yet be suffered in the 
future he must suffer in that moment on the 
cross. Not less than this is that which wrings 
from him who struggles there alone at mid- 
night the low, deep cry, through which men 
sleep, but which moves the hosts of heaven to 



GETHSEMANE. 



6i 



tears : " O my Father, if it be possible, let 
this cup pass from me." But behold his love! 
To wipe out hell for all who will love him, he 
will rather drink the cup. Nevertheless 
not as I will, but as thou wilt." 

We have known men whose souls were too 
great for their bodies ; and the body grew 
emaciated as the soul struggled with its great 
problems and suffered its great sorrows. 
Jesus was a man with the power of God to 
suffer much. But yet a man, with human 
feeling and with human longing for sympathy. 

The first paroxysm of grief is passing. 
Jesus is coming toward the disciples asking, 
in every step and motion, for a look of love, 
for a tear from those he loves. 

" Peter, John, James, O waken there ! " 
whispered my friend. 

Jesus comes up. They do not rise to meet 
him. He hesitates. Now he comes to them, 
and stooping over them asks, " What, could 
ye not watch with me one hour?" 

Of these three chosen to be the nearest 
watchers upon this memorable occasion, James 
and John had at one time expressed their will- 
ingness to drink of the cup of which Christ 
should drink. Foolish men, they could not 
4 



62 THE VANISHING OF THE PRINCE. 

even keep awake in tke moments of their 
Master's suffering in preparation to drink that 
awful cup. Moreover, John was the beloved 
disciple. Peter, this same night at the supper, 
had been loudest of them all in his protes- 
tations of fidelity to his Master. When Jesus 
warned him of his weakness and told him that 
he would deny his Lord, Peter had affirmed 
that though all men should forsake him, yet 
would not he. Here are these three boastful 
men, the three most reliable of the eleven, 
who came with Jesus to the garden. Here 
they are sleeping when he comes to them for 
the sympathy that his mortal nature craves 
in this night of struggle. What ! You sleep- 
ing, John and James, you sons of thunder ! 
You sleeping, bold, intrepid Peter ! Could ye, 
who of late protested so strongly your loyalty 
and fidelity — could ye not watch one hour ? 

Are you the one who said you would not 
be a half-hearted Christian? You said you 
would be faithful. You even expressed your- 
self shocked at the inconsistencies of profess- 
ing Christians. Well, how now ? Have you 
done better than others? The Saviour has 
wanted you to be wakeful, that you might be 
a witness for him. Have you been a wakeful, 



GKTHSEMANE. 



63 



earnest witness ? What, could not ye — you 
were so sure — could not ye watch an hour? 
Could not watch with me ? It is not as if you 
were on guard about the tents of those in 
whose hands the destiny of a nation lies. To 
sleep there v/ere bad enough ; but he by whom 
you have been called to watch is he in whose 
hands the destinies of nations and of the souls 
of men are held. Not watch with him ? 

Did you say you are the one who was 
buried in baptism into the likeness of the 
Saviour's death, who was raised to newness of 
life in him ? You pledged your life and love 
to Jesus in a vow more simple but more solemn 
than ever was administered by earthly magis- 
trate, a vow upon your fidelity to which your 
hope of heaven depends. Are you the one ? 
Are you awake ? Are you watching with the 
Son of God? Do you bear v/itness to his 
suffering for the sons of men? Or are you 
asleep? Because you sleep, must the bitter 
cup of death be twice drunk up ? 

Can men watch beside the camp fires of a 
nation's armies or in the halls of knights of 
gay regalia, but cannot watch beside the Son 
of God, because Gethsemane is lonely and the 
sound of prayer is on the midnight wind ? Is 



64 I'HE VANISHING OF THE PRINCE. 



it, then, so mucli pleasanter and so much 
easier to keep awake in the rabble that is now 
forming in the streets of Jerusalem to come 
and take him, than in the garden ? If easier, 
O, say not pleasanter ! Let it not be pleas- 
anter to thy soul to betray the Son of Man 
than to be a wakeful witness of his suffering 
for men. 

You were so sure, you know, that you could 
keep awake. But if you have been drowsy 
and have finally slept so that you pained the 
heart already bleeding for your sake ; yet it 
is better, vastly better that you should sleep 
beneath the shadow of the palm in Olivet than 
that you should be a member, as was Judas, 
of the mob. 

Ye could not watch with him one hour! 
An hour is not long. It almost seems you 
might have watched. But sixty minutes. A 
minute is not long. One hour ! Life is but 
an hour, only sixty years. A year is not 
long. Ye cannot watch ? God pity you and 
those whose everlasting life depends on you. 

"Watch and pray, that ye enter not into 
temptation: the spirit indeed is willing, but 
the flesh is weak.'' These three men have 



I 

i 



GETHSEMANE. 



67 



received a keen rebuke and one most needed. 
They had been self-confident, and had expected 
to do something in their own strength. Al- 
ready they had forgotten the words of Jesns, 
spoken but a few hours before : " Without me 
ye can do nothing." They will be more hum- 
ble now. They will give up all of self that 
they may be used as Jesus shall direct. 

Jesus went back again to pray. Again he 
was in agony of spirit. The disciples heard 
again the same low words, and again their 
heads drooped upon their breasts, and their 
eyes were heavy with slumber. 

Slowly Jesus comes again toward them, 
hungering for one word of comfort. 

" Peter! Peter! " breathes my friend. 

''Their slumber is deep." 

" Ah, see ! he longs for sympathy ! " 

He stoops over them again. The look of 
entreaty gives place to the old look of agony. 
He turns back, and in turning he arouses one 
of them, who looks quickly up and sees upon 
his Master's face great drops of blood min- 
gling with his sweat. 

Jesus returns again to pray ; and the dis- 
ciple watches his return. 



68 THE VANISHING OF tUH PRINCE. 



Shall not we arouse them all that they 
may be ready to receive him when he comes 
again ? " asked my friend. 

No, leave them to him. You remember it 
was written of him : ' I have trodden the wine- 
press alone.' " 

" Who is that under the tree with him ? Is 
it one of the disciples ? " 

No, except this one, they are all asleep." 

See the radiance of the stranger's face. It 
is an angel ! " 

The angel soothes the man of Nazareth, and 
having strengthened him he leaves him. This 
one disciple has seen it ; but even now he falls 
back to sleep. 

Jesus is returning, calmly now, the need of 
watchers for to-night is gone. He speaks. 
" Sleep on now, and take your rest: behold, the 
hour is at hand, and the Son of man is be- 
trayed into the hands of sinners." 

What a privilege, granted but to these three 
men of all the race, and granted to these three 
but for one hour, to watch, upon this night 
than which there is but one in history so 
awful, with the Saviour of mankind, as he 
struggled with the load of mortal sin I A 
privilege forever lost. This was the privilege 



GETHSEMANE. 



69 



and the duty of Peter, James, and John. They 
failed. Your privilege, your duty, is before 
you. Fail ye not. 

" Did he say the hour is at hand when they 
shall take him ? " asked my friend. 

" Yea. See yonder that torch-lighted crowd 
coming up from the gorge of the Kedron ! 
These are stormy times." 

" We can do nothing here. Let us go back 
to Bethany." 



CHAPTER IV. 



THE ARREST. 

The plot thickens. The chief priests and 
the elders of the people, Caiaphas, the high 
priest, and his father-in-law, Annas, have de- 
creed it — Jesus of Nazareth must die. They 
charge him with blasphemy. But the real 
reason why they are determined to kill him is 
that he has said : Woe unto you, scribes and 
Pharisees, hypocrites," full of hypocrisy," 
"ye fools and blind," " whited sepulchers, 
which outwardly appear beautiful, but inward- 
ly are full of dead men's bones, and of all 
uncleanness . " They are exceedingly mad 
against him. He has openly rebuked their 
sins. He has publicly compromised their dig- 
nity and the people have applauded. They 
are jealous of him. 

It is evening. The great Paschal Feast 
begins at sunset. The paschal lambs will 
soon be slain. The paschal fires are already 
burning. 

About this time a little compau}^ of men 
might have been seen coming from Bethany, 
[70] 



THE ARREST. 



71 



by tlie road around the south of Olivet, toward 
Jerusalem. The men arrive at that point in 
the road whence the city can be clearly seen, 
at that point where a few days before Jesus 
had wept over Jerusalem, even while the mul- 
titude was bearing him along with shouts of 
victory on his Triumphal Entry. Here the 
men stop and look at the paschal fires. In 
the eyes of the rabbi, about whom these men 
are grouped, the paschal fires glow with a 
strange light. He sees something that these 
ten men about him do not see. But he sees 
it with a vision of the soul. 

Presently they walk on around the hill and 
at the fork of the roads not far from the city 
gate, they meet two men coming out from the 
city. They know them. They are expect- 
ing them. After the usual oriental saluta- 
tion, one of the two, with marked reverence 
and love, addresses, the rabbi in a few words ; 
then they all proceed together to the city. 
They go directly to a certain house and enter ; 
and are ushered into an upper room where 
a paschal feast is in readiness. They recline 
about the table, according to the custom of 
their country and of their day ; and Jesus and 
his disciples are in their places for that Last 



72 THE VANISHING OF l^HE PRINCE. 



Supper" wHich for nineteen hundred years 
has been the theme of painter, priest, and poet. 

The supper has proceeded for some time 
when Jesus sighs heavily and says : One of 
you shall betray me." These faithful men 
look upon one another in surprise and ask one 
after another, ''Lord, is it I?" ''Is it I?" 
"Is it I?" Judas, the 'Scariot, does not 
ask this. At a sign from his fellows, John 
asks : " Lord, who is it ? " The answer comes 
slowly and sadly : " He it is, for whom I shall 
dip the sop, and give it him." So when he 
has dipped the sop, he takes it and gives it to 
Judas. Then, with a Satanic smile, Judas 
asks, " Is it I ? " " Thou hast said." " That 
thou doest, do quickly." And Judas goes 
immediately out into the night. 

We will leave Jesus and the eleven to insti- 
tute the Lord's Supper. We will not now 
listen to those wonderful words of love which 
he continued far into the night to speak. We 
will not follow them into the garden of Geth- 
semane, where the disciples slept while Jesus 
struggled in his agony alone. There, near 
that moonlit garden, we shall find them soon. 

Let us follow Judas. He hastens out and 
while he is making his way rapidly through 



'THE ARRKSI". 



73 



one street after another toward the palace of 
the high priest, let us think a moment about 
this man. "Judas, the 'Scariot." Is there a 
name on mortal tongue that stands for more 
of perfidy ? If some one has proved himself 
wholly unworthy of confidence, and if he has 
betrayed every trust, and if, while pretending 
to be a friend, he has played the part of an 
enemy, then men seek in vain for an epithet 
that will fitly express their holy contempt for 
this man. They call him a sneak, a traitor, 
but that does not suffice. They call him a 
" snake in the grass," a viper in the bosom." 
But no — he is a Judas, and in this name the 
contempt of the soul for base and treacherous 
infidelity almost finds expression. 

We know that Judas is now on his way to 
betray Jesus into the hands of his enemies. 
We know that he has already been in consul- 
tation with the chief priests and with the elders 
about this matter. How comes it about that 
Judas, after three years spent with Jesus, could 
do this thing ? Well, Judas was the treasurer 
of the band. He loved the money. He had 
made serious complaint when, a few days be- 
fore at the supper in Bethany, a certain woman 
had used, to anoint the feet of Jesus, a box of 



74 I'HB VANISHING OF THE PRINCE. 



very precious ointment. He said that it might 
have been sold for a large sum and given to 
the poor. The narrator says, however, that 
Judas did not care for the poor ; but that he 
carried the bag. This act of anointing the 
feet of Jesus was an act of overflowing love for 
him. Judas did not sympathize A^dth it. Why ? 
Did Judas really love Jesus? Perhaps so; 
but evidently he loved the bag more. Perhaps 
he reasoned that the feet of Jesus were not in 
need of the ointment. But love would have 
taught Judas that the heart of Jesus was in 
need of just such an expression of love as this. 
But if Jesus had no need, love would have 
prompted Judas to have done more than was 
simply needful for the IMaster who was now 
waiting in retirement for a few da3^s until the 
Paschal Feast — his hour to die — was come. 
Ah, Judas did not love Jesus ! Or, if he did 
love him, he loved the things of this life more 
than he loved Jesus. But, whether he loved 
him not at all, or too little, or the world too 
much, the result is the same — eternal death ! 

We left Judas going to betray Jesus. It is 
night. Before another night fell over Jeru- 
salem some one had come, horrified and faint, 
upon the cold bod}^ of Judas, swinging at the 



THE ARREST. 



75 



rope by which he had swung himself — mad 
with remorse but not repentant — into eternal 
night. Beware the fate of Judas ! ^' Love not 
the world, neither the things that are in the 
world." But let thy soul know the love that 
would lay thy life, with all its fragrance and 
with all its wealth, a sweet tribute at thy 
Saviour's feet. 

But we have anticipated our story a little. 
Judas hastens to the gate of the palace of 
Caiaphas. In response to the challenge of the 
doorkeeper, he whispers something in his ear 
that sounds like a hiss. The effect is magical. 
He is admitted at once, and presently he finds 
himself in a large room, where the chief priests 
and elders are sitting in consultation with 
Caiaphas and Annas. 

" Ha, Judas ! " cried the old gray-haired 
Annas, looking keenly at him from under his 
shaggy white eyebrows, What hast thou 
accomplished? " 

Give me the money," he replies, and I 
will deliver him unto you." 

"Canst thou do it?" 

" I can." 

They question him further. Then they 
haggle over the price, and finally fix it at 



76 THE VANISHING OF THE PRINCE. 

thirty pieces of silver, the very price foretold 
by the prophets, in whom these priests were 
learned, as the price put upon the Christ. So 
blind is the wrath of man. 

Go, Judas,'' says Caiaphas, " secure a cohort 
of soldiers and such a company as thou mayest 
need, and take him. Malchus will accompany 
thee and we will meet thee at the East gate." 
Judas and Malchus, the servant of Caiaphas, 
go their way, bearing letters to those in au- 
thority, by means of which they succeed in 
securing the attendance of the cohort. 

When these have departed Caiaphas speaks 
to the assembled chief priests and elders : 
At last our desires to rid the w^orld of this 
base Nazarene seem to be bearing fruit. And 
now, holy brethren, disperse and prepare your- 
selves for the arrest. You will be together 
again in an hour at the East gate.'' 

After considerable delay, in which an hour 
or two passed, Judas and Malchus succeed 
in gathering a miscellaneous mob, carrying 
swords and staves, lanterns and torches ; and 
they also secure a cohort of soldiers. The 
cohort goes clattering down the steep descent 
from the tov^er of Antonio, to the city gate, 
now known as St. Stephen's gate, then called 



TOWER OF ANTONIO. 



i 



THE ARREST. 



79 



the East gate. As they proceed the mob falls 
in behind. They go quietly, for they fear the 
people. "The common people heard him 
gladly." Others join them as they go. 

One falls in and asks, " Where are you 
going and for what?" 

''Hark! Do not make a noise. We are 
going to arrest the Nazarene. Hast thou a 
sword ? " 

"Yea." 

" Light this torch at yonder fire and come 
along." 

So another and another is added to the mob. 
At the gate certain of the chief priests and of 
the elders join them. They pass through the 
gate, down the steep descent, and across the 
bridge that had been crossed but a few hours 
before by twelve men, men who were stooping 
beneath a load of sorrow as they passed. 

The mob is across the Kedron bridge now, 
and is beginning the ascent of Olivet, taking 
the road that leads eastward over the summit 
of the mountain. Judas is showing the way. 
He knows the place well. They have not 
gone far when Judas suddenly stops ; the 
priests stop ; the soldiers stop ; the mob stops. 
The silence becomes painful. The torches 



8o THE VANISHING OF THE PRINCE. 



flare red in the midnight gloom, and the faces 
of their bearers show pale beneath the ascend- 
ing smoke. The eyes of Judas and of the 
priests and of the soldiers are fixed upon what 
seems to these guilty men to be an apparition. 
A little above them, just outside the gate of 
a hillside garden, called Gethsemane, stands a 
figure all in white. The moon shines down 
through the olive trees and the raiment of this 
mysterious being glistens unnaturally in its 
pale light. The figure stands erect. The 
eyes are fixed upon the mob with a look of 
tender, compassionate sorrow. The cohort 
stands firm and rigid. The mob parts silently 
to right and left, peering cautiously around 
the cohort to see the vision. Then, as each 
man catches a glimpse, he stands open- 
mouthed and with starting eyes, riveted to the" 
spot. There is something more than human 
in the calm, pitying light of that face. There 
is. something Godlike in the humble dignity 
of that presence. Let these guilty people 
gaze spellbound. It will not be possible to 
look again upon that divine being in his pris- 
tine dignity. In a few moments he will be 
suffering insult for the sake of those who 
insult him. 



THE ARREST. 



8l 



But why should we speak of these as guilty 
people ? Malchus and the soldiers are simply 
carrying out the commands of their superiors. 
Well, we will not stop either to defend or to 
condemn these, nor will we speak of the 
priests ; but look at the mob ! They are not 
anybody's servants. Their duty does not call 
them here. Many of them have nothing 
against the Nazarene. Some of them have 
benefited by his acts of mercy. Why, then, 
are they here? Oh, they just came along 
with the crowd to see what was going on. 
Ah ! And so they are found in the mob that 
helped to arrest the Son of God ! So they 
stand and will stand as a spectacle and as a 
warning through all the ages ! Exactly so. 
The words of the Nazarene who stands there 
so nobly come to our minds now as we look at 
this spellbound crowd : He that is not with 
me is against me." Those poor disciples back 
there in the shadows have made a sorry watch 
for Jesus in the awful struggle through which 
he has just passed. And now they stand back; 
and soon they will all forsake him for a 
time. But, for all that, they are on his side. 
They are not in the mob. It is better — 
myriad-fold better — to be a weak, sleepy, de- 
5 



82 THE VANISHING OF THE PRINCE. 

nying, repentant disciple, than to belong to 
tHat mob. Beware of tbe mob ! Unless you 
are one of those there at the Nazarene's back, 
you are one of that staring mob. Sometime 
your soul will get a glimpse of the Son of 
God, but it may be too late then. You can 
then only gaze upon his majesty spellbound, 
while the flaring torch of red fire above you 
will reveal 3^our white, scared face, and deepen 
the outer darkness beyond and behind. 

Still that strained and painful silence con- 
tinues. All the voices of the night are hushed 
to listen for — what ? Some one of the mob 
whispers : — 

It is the Nazarene ; I have seen him many 
times. I saw him when he fed five thousand 
men, and a multitude of women and children 
besides, vdth not bread enough to satisfy two 
hungry men." 

^' Yea," whispers another, I saw him just 
over the mountain at Bethany, when he called 
that man Lazarus out of the grave after he 
had lain there four days." 

''And did he come forth at his call?" 

" Yea, I saw him." 
Had the man been realty dead ? " 

'' Yea, I was at the burial." 



THE ARREST. 



83 



^'Then the Nazarene must be a God." 
'^Hist! He is speaking." 
" Whom seek ye ? " 

Malchus makes bold, and answers out of a 
dry throat: ''Jesus of Nazareth." 
'' I am he." 

He seems to move forward as he speaks. 

" Let us go back!" whispers one; and he 
steps back more suddenly than he had in- 
tended, for he is stricken with terror. Then 
a hundred terror-stricken men who have been 
waiting, unconsciously, for 5ome one to move 
back first, in a panic, fall precipitately over 
each other to the ground. The cohort alone 
stands firm. Seeing the soldiers still in their 
places, the mob recovers confidence and slowly 
comes up. Again nothing is heard save only 
the whisper of a passing breath of wind and 
a call of a night bird, disturbed by the torch- 
light, and the answering call from somewhere 
far up the mountain. The disciples are indis- 
tinctly seen in the background. They are 
slowly coming nearer. 

Once more the clear voice of the Nazarene 
asks: "Whom seek ye?" 

Again Malchus answers: "Jesus of Naza- 
reth." 



84 'THE VANISHING OF THE PRINCE. 

" I told you that I am he.'' Then he adds 
with a simple jesture toward his disciples : 
If therefore ye seek me, let these go their 
way." 

Malchus says to Judas : ''Go on, show us 
the Nazarene." 

" Thou knowest him," falters Judas. 

" Thou must give us the promised sign," 
says one of the priests, '' or thou must answer 
to Caiaphas." 

''Will ye all follow?" 

"Yea." 

Judas, Malchus, the priests, and the cohort 
move forward. Judas nerves himself and the 
Prince of Darkness strengthens him. But 
Judas knows that he has nothing to fear from 
this man who is here for this very purpose. 
Hastening to him, saying, " Hail, Master ! " 
he gives the sign. He kisses him. Traitor ! 
Even the soldiers are ashamed. In pity for 
the lost Judas, the voice of the Saviour is ten- 
der as he says: "Judas, betrayest thou the 
Son of man with a kiss ? " 

Peter's righteous wrath boils over. Draw- 
ing his sword, he springs forward. Judas has 
escaped into the darkness, but Peter strikes, 
and his ill-directed blow grazes the cheek of 



I 

I 



4 



THE ARREST. 



87 



Malchus and cuts off his right ear. Jesus at 
once touches the wounded ear and heals it, 
saying to Peter as he does this : Put up th}^ 
sword into the sheath : the cup which my 
Father hath given me, shall I not drink it?" 
"Dost thou not know, Peter, that I have no 
need of thy faulty sword, that I could ask 
my Father and he would send me now more 
than twelve legions of angels before the 
shining of whose coming this cohort and this 
mob would die from fear?" Then, Peter, 
again rebuked, and certain now that the Mas- 
ter will be put to death, turns away into the 
darkness. 

Poor Peter ! But, foolish Peter, too. How 
absurd for him to thrust himself before the 
King of heaven and earth, and to say, by his 
knightly bearing and by his drawn sword: 
" Avaunt, you base soldiers and you vile mob, 
you shall not touch this dear man ! I, Peter, 
will defend him against you all ! " Peter's 
heart is good. We love him for his love. But 
his egotism is grotesque ; and the more gro- 
tesque because it is so genuine and so uncon- 
scious. Peter has forgotten, for the moment, 
the marvelous life of the past three yearSo 
He has forgotten the explanation that Jesus 



88 THE VANISHING OF THE PRINCE. 



gave the disciples of the nature of his mission. 
Peter does not know it, but this moment is 
the beginning of the Saviour's final victory. 
This solitary, white-robed man, now surrender- 
ing himself to the mob, is not surrendering his 
sword. In this moment the Son of God is de- 
manding Satan's surrender and is taking his 
sword from him. Never was a victory so com- 
plete as this. Never before was a victory so 
grandly decisive. But, for the present, Peter 
has lost his spiritual vision. He sees the 
Nazarene in physical danger. He fails to see 
God in his triumph. 

We are all more or less like Peter. Instead 
of the Nazarene we have the New Testament 
— the record of his life and teaching. When 
the mob attacks this record, the action of the 
Peters as they spring to its defense is gro- 
tesque. But if the New Testament is the true 
record of the very God-man, then it will ac- 
complish that whereunto it is sent. It is not 
Peter's mission to defend but to proclaim this 
record. Peter's short sword does not do any 
good. It only makes a wound that must be 
healed. Yes, but it is a wound on the enemy's 
head. Ah, but it must be healed, for it is a 
wound of such nature as to do only injury 



THE ARREST. 



89 



to the cause of the Nazarene. Suppose Peter 
had frightened the soldiers and the mob away 
with that little sword, then what ? This arrest 
is in the line of the purpose of God for the 
salvation of the world. This is exactly in the 
line of prophecy. The money paid to Judas 
— thirty pieces of silver — this the prophets 
had foretold. The Saviour himself had said, 
but a little while before, that he must be be- 
trayed into the hands of sinful men and must 
be crucified. He had even said that it was 
Judas who should betray him. The prophets 
had said, and it was on record in the Scrip- 
tures, " that the Christ should suffer, and rise 
again from the dead the third day." This 
mob must not be driven back. These are 
wicked, guilty men, and the curse of this act 
must follow them ; but God often makes the 
wrath of man to praise him. These, God's 
enemies, are, by the power and wisdom of God, 
so overruled that the result of their wicked act 
tends to the furtherance of God's age-long plan. 
Peter is short-sighted to draw his sword. So 
men draw their short swords of science and of 
philosophy and of criticism, and say : "By 
these we will defend the Bible." " Put up thy 
sword into the sheath ! " The enemies of the 



THE VANISHING OF THE PRINCE. 

Bible are doing that work wonderfully well. 
Do not you thwart the purposes of God by put- 
ting them to silence. If the Bible is the word 
of God, it is like a mass of gold — the deeper 
it is cut into, the more certain will it appear 
that the whole mass is gold from circumfer- 
ence to center. The danger of the Bible from 
its enemies is only a fancied danger. 

But there is a real danger here. It lies in 
the presumptuous egotism of certain supposed 
friends of the Bible. These people feel sorry 
for some things in the Bible — just as Peter 
felt sorry for Jesus. So these people explain 
the Bible. Instead of saying : This is what 
our record says, and our responsibility ceases 
when we have truly read what is written," 
these Peters say, That part is not quite true 
to human nature, we must explain it." Put 
up thy sword ! " For example, some Peter 
says : I read that all who do not believe on 
Jesus must suffer eternal punishment ; but I 
feel — my heart tells me — that a good God 
will not punish one forever for what few sins 
he can commit in this short life." So ! Your 
feeling then — what your heart tells you — 
that poor, blind, human heart — is a safer, a 
more infallible guide than the Bible, is it? 



THE ARREST. 



91 



Poor, short-siglited, presumptuous Peter! Put 
up thy sword ! " 

Or again, some other Peter says : Some 
things are written in the Bible which are 
stated clearly enough, but it is not always con- 
venient to follow these instructions exactly. 
We must use our judgment. We must not be 
foolish ! " And so the exact form of the Bible 
may be foolish ! So your judgment is a safer 
guide than is the Bible ! You egotist ! " Put 
up thy sword." The Bible is not in need of 
your puny attempts at defense, any more than 
did the Nazarene then need the defense of 
puny Peter's little sword. Your place is be- 
hind the Nazarene, not before him. 

And now, like Peter still, you are angry 
because you are rebuked, and you stalk off 
into the darkness. Come back and see this 
mighty act in the drama of the world com- 
pleted. The Nazarene turns from Peter and 
says unto the chief priests and captain of the 
temple, and elders, which were come out 
against him, "Are ye come out, as against a 
robber, with swords and staves ? When I was 
daily with you in the temple, ye stretched not 
forth your hands against me : but this is your 
hour, and the power of darkness." 



92 THE VANISHING OF THE PRINCE. 

What did the Master say, John ? ' Their 
hour and the power of darkness ? ' John, 
come, let us begone ! Thou didst hear him 
say, ' Let these go their way.' Andrew, Philip, 
help me to get John away ! Peter hath gone ! 
We cannot do anything more for the Master. 
Come, John, this is the hour, this is the power 
of darkness." 

" And they all forsook him, and fled." 

The mob grows bold, the Nazarene has vir- 
tually surrendered himself to them in the 
words: ^'This is ^-our hour." They seize 
him ! They hold him fast ! They need not 
have seized him so roughly ; he was ready to 
go. They need not have bound him so 
cruelly ; he would have gone unbound. He 
had come to this of his own free will, for the 
sake of us all — even for the sake of those who 
are now hurrying him down the uneven slope 
of Olivet, over the bridge of the Kedron, up 
through the East gate, up to the palace of 
Annas. 



CHAPTER V. 

THE JEWISH TRIAL. 

According to JewisH law, every prisoner was 
to be held innocent until he was proved guilty. 
Moreover, every effort was to be made in the 
prisoner's behalf. He could not be condemned 
except upon the evidence of at least two wit- 
nesses, whose testimony must agree. He was 
entitled to counsel appointed for his especial 
benefit. In capital offenses sentence of ac- 
quittal might be pronounced at once, but sen- 
tence of condemnation could not be pronounced 
until the day after the trial. Moreover, such 
sentence of condemnation could not be pro- 
nounced upon a Sabbath nor upon a feast day. 
Therefore, a trial on a capital charge could 
not begin on the day preceding a Sabbath or 
a feast day. Such a trial could not be held in 
the night. Furthermore, the judges who con- 
demned a criminal were required to fast all 
the day preceding the rendering of sentence 
of condemnation. And, moreover, it was re- 
quired that witnesses for the prisoner, as well 
as against him, should be sought. 

[93] 



94 I'HE VANISHING OF THE PRINCK. 



A greater outrage against law and justice 
was never committed than that which con- 
demned Jesus of Nazareth to death on the 
Roman cross. 

After the traitor's kiss in the garden, after 
the alarm and the final recovery of the mob 
that arrested him, Jesus was first taken to the 
house of Annas. Annas is called the high 
priest. He had been high priest, but had 
been deposed by the Roman authorities, and 
Caiaphas, his son-in-law, had been appointed in 
his stead. The Jews, however, while com- 
pelled to recognize Caiaphas in legal matters 
because they were Roman subjects, seem to 
have considered Annas their high priest in 
matters pertaining to their separate aff'airs as 
a people, or at least they seem to have honored 
him as high priest conjointly with Caiaphas. 

On to the house of Annas," hiss the 
priestly captors of the innocent and holy One. 

" Up to the house of Annas," hisses the mob 
in return, as it hurries him along with every 
indignity and with feverish haste. 

Outside the palace gate the soldiers halt. 
The priests and the elders and a few others 
are admitted. Among them is John. Peter 
is left outside. But John, who has some influ- 



THE JEWISH TRIAL. 



95 



ence at the gate, procures admittance for Peter, 
who stops in the open court at the fire, and, 
in company with the officers, stands warming 
himself. 

The priests and the elders gather about 
Annas and hold the prisoner bound in their 
midst. A moment of awful and expectant 
silence follows, in which the wicked, subtle 
eyes of the crafty high priest search the quiet, 
submissive man before him. 

This tribunal is not a court — not the San- 
hedrim — not anything legal. It is a mere 
assemblage of those who are bent upon the 
Nazarene's death. An assemblage containing 
many who are members of the Sanhedrim, 
come together to make every preliminary 
preparation for the conviction of the prisoner 
at the break of day. The Sanhedrim cannot 
meet officially until morning. These virtuous 
priests will not presume to violate the law — 
unless it is necessary to do so in order to se- 
cure their fiendish ends. They can have the 
witnesses at hand, however, and can secure 
the prisoner's condemnation in all but form, 
before the meeting of the legal court in the 
morning, without violating the letter of the 
law forbidding such trials in the night. This 



9^ THE VANISHING OF THE PRINCE. 



is a dark night, and under the shadow of its 
awful gloom the lawless deeds of these men 
seem to their dull consciences to be less 
criminal. 

Contrary to the law, the high priest asks 
the Nazarene concerning his teaching. He 
answers quietly : ''I have spoken openly to 
the world ; I ever taught in synagogues, and 
in the temple, where all the Jews come to- 
gether ; and in secret spake I nothing. Why 
askest thou me? ask them that heard me, 
what I spake unto them : behold, these know 
the things which I said." Then a servant of 
the high priest struck him, and was not pun- 
ished. The answer of the prisoner had been 
a mild rebuke to the high priest for seeking, 
contrary to the law, to compel him to bear 
witness against himself. For this he was 
smitten. The prisoner replies to this outrage 
by calling for the witnesses against him and 
asking why, uncondemned, he is smitten. 

This was the first blow. Alas, like the first 
sin, it opened the way for every indignity and 
for death at the end. And it was Annas who 
struck the blow. It was Annas who struck 
the blow by the hand of his servant. How 
dare a mere menial of the court presume to 



THE JEWISH TRIAL. 



97 



smite the uncondemned prisoner ! He might 
have been so bold, not knowing the Jewish 
law ; but he knew the law of a servant, and 
he knew a servant's place. And he knew, no 
doubt, the wrath of his master, Annas. But 
he smote the prisoner not in defiance of his 
master, but because he knew his master would 
be pleased. The master's spirit acted through 
his servant. 

So it has ever been in the world. Many a 
victim of the gallows here will go uncon- 
demned in the next world ; while the man 
who, without a word, but by his own rage and 
hate, inspired the murderer to strike, though 
unhung here, will not escape justice hereafter. 
Men have marvelous and unexplained power 
over each other. This marvelous influence of 
noble spirits as a check upon evil passions is 
well known to every moralist. It was this in- 
fluence of the Nazarene that caused the mob 
to hesitate and to fall back in dismay before 
his perfect being. 

Every man is, to a greater extent than he 
may think, the master of some other, whom 
indeed he may not know. And his unspoken 
command, the command of his soul, a com- 
mand involved in the very nature of his be- 



98 THE VANISHING OF THE PRINCE. 



ing, is given oftener than lie supposes; and, 
by his unknown servant, is oftener obeyed. 
Suppose his command is to do evil, a com- 
mand given only by a revengeful heart, given 
without a word, without a look ; but yet given 
and obeyed. Shall the weaker soul that 
was influenced by the wrong temper of the 
stronger soul bear the blame before God 
and the stronger soul be free? Nay, verily. 
Men are not less to blame for what they 
are than for what they say or do. The 
fretful soul that is the cause of another's 
fretfulness is to blame for both. The malig- 
nant soul that infects another with its own 
disease is to blame for the scandal that the 
other starts. Men are influenced more by 
what one is than by what one says or does. 
Beware of this moral contagion. The world 
is fuller of it than ever was a plague-stricken 
region full of the contagion of the plague ; 
fuller of it than ever was a pine forest on the 
mountain full of ozone at the dawn of day. 
Be not vicious, but virtuous. Then shall men 
catch virtue from thee and not vice. TAou 
art. And thy being is hourly giving com- 
mands to obedient servants whom thou know- 
est not. Therefore take heed what thou art. 



THE JEWISH TRIAL. 



99 



Let the command of tHy being cause thy serv- 
ant to adore the Nazarene, not to smite him. 

How much more was done in the way of 
examination before Annas we are not told ; 
but he soon sent the prisoner, bound, to Caia- 
phas. We infer from the story that Caiaphas 
occupied a palace with his father Annas. The 
prisoner was now led by his accusers into an- 
other apartment near at hand, and the trial 
was taken up by the legal high priest. 

The first step in their proceeding was to 
seek false witness against the prisoner. But 
the testimony secured was so contradictory 
and so manifestly false that even this illegal, 
murderous assembly of the chief priests and 
of the whole council did not dare to accept 
it. Finally, two witnesses came, saying that 
the Nazarene had said he would destroy the 
temple and build it again in three days. 
But in this charge the witnesses failed to 
agree ; and it was abandoned. Meanwhile, 
the night was passing, and in the early morn- 
ing the Sanhedrim would meet of&cially. 
Some suitable charge must be found before 
that time. Every effort to secure witnesses 
had miserably failed. The prisoner had re- 
mained silent throughout. His enemies were 

6 



lOO THE VANISHING OF THE PRINCE. 

determined to kill him with or without tes- 
timony against him. Defense was useless. 
His time had now come to deliver up his soul 
for the sins of the world — even for the sins 
of those who were so wickedly plotting his 
murder. Therefore as a sheep before her 
shearers is dumb, so he openeth not his 
mouth. 

The high priest is exasperated. The pris- 
oner must be convicted out of his own mouth. 
The law can go to the winds. But yet he 
will seem to be law-abiding, and what he is 
about to do shall be covered by an appeal to 
the prisoner to defend himself. "Answerest 
thou nothing ? what is it which these wit- 
ness against thee ? " Still silent ! The 
noble Nazarene will not appear, by answering 
a word, to admit that any witness against him 
has been brought. Yet more exasperated, the 
high priest then defies the prisoner's right to 
be free from bearing witness against himself, 
and puts him under the solemn oath which 
the false witnesses have not been required to 
take, saying, I adjure thee by the living God, 
that thou tell us whether thou be the Christ, 
the Son of God." Not long before, the Saviour 
had cautioned his disciples not to tell any one 



Goltzius. 

CHRIST BEFORK THK HIGH PRIEST. 



THE JEWISH TRIAL. 103 

that he was the Christ. His time had not yet 
come, now it was come, and he answered 
calmly, I am." Blasphemy ! " cries the 
holy high priest, rending his garments in his 
horror of the crime. Then turning in hot 
haste to his horrified colleagues he says 
eagerly and triumphantly, " What think ye ?" 
They answered, " He is worthy of death." 
And the answer is the howl of the wolf in 
sheep's clothing ; and it is the wolf that 
springs forth upon the victim. These priests 
and elders and officers spit in the face of the 
prisoner, who is not yet legally condemned, 
and they buffet him. The council broke up 
in an angry mob. They hurried the prisoner 
along out of the council chamber into some 
other apartment where they could amuse 
themselves with him at their will until the 
break of day and the meeting of the Sanhe- 
drim. As they pass through the open court 
where the soldiers and Peter stand warming 
themselves, the cock crows. The Saviour 
looks up at Peter. Peter has been having a 
hard night. He has just now, for the third 
time, denied that he knows anything about 
the Nazarene, denied with oaths. The crow- 
ing cock, the sudden appearance of the Saviour 



I04 THE VANISHING OF THE PRINCE. 

in the court, the look from that calm face 
bearing marks of base and contemptuous in- 
sult — it is enough ! Peter covers his head 
and hastens out into the night, repenting and 
weeping. 

Now begins the mockery of the prisoner in 
the real earnest of Jewish malevolence. They 
blindfold him and pass by in turn, spitting 
and striking, and saying, Who is it that smote 
thee?'' Among them are the officers, striking 
him with their hands. So passed a weary 
hour or two of suffering and shame, until the 
gray dawn streaked the eastern sky and the 
Sanhedrim gathered in Jewish hate to put 
the of&cial seal upon the slander and blas- 
phemy of the night. 

The indignation of the high priest when he 
rent his garment because Jesus had declared 
himself to be the Son of God, was certainl}^ 
not holy or righteous indignation ; but self- 
ish anger. He was not indignant because he 
loved God and could not, unmoved, hear him 
blasphemed ; but because he loved Caiaphas, 
the high priest, against whose hypocrisy this 
Nazarene had cried out. 

We find in Caiaphas only what we find in 
the unregenerate heart everywhere. Not al- 



THE JEWISH T'RIAL. IO5 



ways so run riot. But " the natural man 
receiveth not the things of the Spirit of God" 
— receiveth not the Son of God. And often 
under cover of ^^;2righteous indignation men 
defend themselves for rejecting Christ. Let 
one plead for a holy life and a Caiaphas 
will be stung because he has been called a 
sinner, and will not rest until some charge 
has been found against the church or against 
some professing Christian. Then he will say : 
" There, the hypocrisy of it, the blasphemy 
of it! I am better than that ! " And he rends 
his garments in an indignation that he calls 
holy; but that has its birth in an unholy 
heart. Beware of that high-priestly indigna- 
tion of Caiaphas and his court. 

The case of Peter is different. We are told 
that he followed Jesus afar off. How much 
better to follow afar off than not at all ! Peter's 
case is infinitely better than that either of 
Caiaphas or of Judas. But wherever the gos- 
pel is heard, to the end of the world, will be 
heard the story of Peter's denial, will be heard 
the echo of his oaths. And many a man 
awake and courting slumber in the silent hours 
just before the break of day will hear the 
cock's shrill crowing and will see Peter warm- 



Io6 THE VANISHING OF THE PRINCE. 

ing himself among his Saviour's enemies. He 
will see the tender look from that insulted 
face as the Man of Sorrows passes through the 
court. In the chill of the morning, just at 
the dawn of the day, he will cover his head in 
shame, as Peter covered his, and as Peter wept 
for his far-off following and for his base denial, 
so will he weep for his. 

Meanwhile, the moments have passed in in- 
sult and in vile abuse until the day has dawned 
and the Sanhedrim is permitted to meet offi- 
cially to complete the work of the night. The 
prisoner is brought before the council. Again 
the question is put to him : ''If thou art the 
Christ, tell us." Again he affirms that he is 
the Christ, the Son of God. But he adds : 
" From henceforth shall the Son of man be 
seated at the right hand of the power of God." 
He did not make any pretension to an earthly 
kingship. He would have them understand 
that he is a spiritual king. He is imme- 
diately condemned for blasphemy, and the 
Sanhedrim breaks up and hurries him away 
to the Roman governor. 

So ended the Jewish trial. Throughout 
there has been the most indecent haste. 
Partly because they all fear the prisoner. 



THE JEWISH TRIAL. 



107 



But, still more/ the passover feast is just 
upon them and they must not defile them- 
selves with the execution of the criminal. 
Already it is Friday morning. This Friday 
was a preparation for the Sabbath, and that 
Sabbath was a high day. This business 
must be hurried through. In the trial almost 
every law had been violated. No witness was 
found against the prisoner. He was com- 
pelled to condemn himself. Sentence was 
passed against him without the fasting re- 
quired by the law. His sentence was pro- 
nounced upon a feast day. And he was 
virtually tried in the night, although the San- 
hedrim met long enough in the morning to 
give a show of legality to the proceedings. 

But in this very show of legality these false 
priests proved the words of their prisoner 
true : Woe unto you, scribes and Pharisees, 
hypocrites ! for ye are like unto whited 
sepulchers, which outwardly appear beautiful, 
but inwardly are full of dead men's bones, and 
of all uncleanness." The right form must be 
observed, in what spirit never mind. The 
letter must be obeyed — if convenient — never 
mind about the spirit of the law. 

Perhaps we should not let our indignation 



Io8 THE VANISHING OF THE PRINCE. 

run out against these men alone, however. 
How many there are to-day w^ho say : ^' The 
form is no matter so long as we observe the 
spirit ! " Forgetting entirely that the spirit 
includes the form ; and that he who refuses 
the form in so far has not the spirit. And 
then again, how often we use the form as a 
salve for conscience. The spirit is not there. 
But still the prayer is said. The hymns are 
sung. The knees are bent. The head is 
bowed. The Sanhedrim meets at break of 
day in a show of righteousness ; but the Naza- 
rene was condemned the night before. The 
body is bowed in prayer and the lips move in 
the words of prayer, Lead me in thy truth, 
and teach me ; " but alas, in the night of self- 
ishness and self-deception just past, the soul 
chose its own wa}^, chose falsehood for truth, 
and now seeks to quiet the conscience and 
to approve the choice by the forms of obe- 
dience. 

Ah, the human heart is ever the same. 
Centuries of culture and of civilization and of 
history do not change it. The natural heart 
^4s enmity against God." It is ever seeking 
its own will, and then it is ever seeking to 
make itself and others believe that it is doing 



THE JEWISH TRIAL. IO9 

the will of God. Beware, not so much of 
Pharisee or Sadducee, of false high priest, of 
Peter's fall or of Judas 's doom, as of thine own 
remorseless heart. Give thou this man of 
Nazareth the fair trial that his nation denied 
him, and see if he be not the very Christ, 
the Son of God, and worthy to be enthroned 
within thy soul. 



CHAPTER VI. 



THE ROMAN TRIAL. 

A fair trial ! " What a mockery many 
a ruined man Has found this cry to be. And 
perhaps it is as much a mockery to-day as 
ever. So long as men have passions that 
they love to gratify, — until men learn to obey 
the command of the Nazarene to love their 
neighbors as themselves,— the mockery will 
go on ; and taking the sword, men will perish 
by the sword. 

The day has not fully dawned over the city 
when a man with staring eyes and haggard 
face, his beard and hair unkempt, his whole 
person expressive of horrible mental torture, 
knocks loudly at the gate of the house of 
Caiaphas. The condemned Nazarene with 
his guards has just passed out on the way to 
Pilate. 

" Yea," the man mutters, they have con- 
demned him to death." 

He pushes through the gate and rushes 
wildly into the council chamber where the 
[no] 



THE ROMAN TRIAL. 



Ill 



Sanhedrim is preparing to follow the Naza- 
rene to Pilate. Hurling some pieces of money 
onto the floor at the feet of Caiaphas he al- 
most screams in a high, unnatural key: "I 
have sinned in that I betrayed innocent 
blood." He stands an instant looking from 
one to the other with the glare of a fiend at 
bay — frightened — expectant — hoping against 
hope for a word that may help him to clear his 
guilty soul. 

Caiaphas returns his glare, and says : What 
is that to us ? see thou to that." 

It is the death knell to the son of doom. 
Judas, the 'Scariot, turns and rushes out into 
the early dawn. 

Whither shall I flee now? " his soul whis- 
pers to itself as he hurries along. 

The eastern sky is growing warm under 
the advances of the king of day, and at his 
persistent wooing, blushes behind Olivet. The 
summit of the hill has already received his 
warm caress and the sunbeams linger fondly 
for a moment in the tree-tops ere they shoot 
across the misty valley to light up the temple 
of King Solomon with a glorious glow of gold. 
The gleam comes even as it lingers in the 
tree-tops. The 'Scariot sees it; but to him 



112 THE VANISHING OF THE PRINCE. 

it is the fiasti of the avenging sword. He 
hastens out to an obscure place, where it is 
yet misty and damp and twilight, and hangs 
himself. Alas for Judas ! Alas for all men 
who like Judas continue in opposition to 
Christ until despair throttles penitence and 
hurls the soul off to the regions of woe ! 

Meanwhile the chief priests and elders of 
the people have led the prisoner to the palace. 
They could not enter the palace themselves 
— these guileless men — lest they be defiled 
by contact with this worldly court. So they 
remain outside, and Pilate comes out into the 
court and takes the seat of judgment placed 
there for him. Pilate immediately asks them: 
" What accusation bring ye against this 
man ? " 

The chief priests and elders had hoped that 
their presence and the fact that the prisoner 
had been already condemned by the Sanhe- 
drim would be su£6.cient evidence in the judg- 
ment of Pilate to warrant his immediate 
condemnation. Now the}^ make answer with 
some show of resentment : If this man were 
not an evil-doer, we should not have delivered 
him up unto thee." 



Proiit Ihi I'uici' s ••Last Supper.'' 

JUDAS AND PETER. 



THE ROMAN TRIAL. 



Pilate, however, does not see fit to deal so 
summarily with this case. He tells them that, 
if they have settled this matter, they need 
not bring him there. " Take him yourselves, 
and judge him according to your law." 

They show the awful depth of their malevo- 
lence by saying: ''It is not lawful for us to 
put any man to death." 

Seeing that Pilate would not simply confirm 
their judgment of condemnation and give 
order for the execution of the prisoner, but 
that he would try him for himself, the accu- 
sers of the Nazarene begin to present their 
accusations, and this is the charge they bring : 
*^We found this man perverting our nation, 
and forbidding to give tribute to Caesar, and 
saying that he himself is Christ a king." 

These are strange words on Jewish lips. 
These men are hugging the remnant of the 
Jewish power and nourishing it, hoping that 
a day will come when they can throw off 
the Roman yoke. But in this charge they 
seem very loyal, calling the Roman Empire 
"our nation." "This man perverts our na- 
tion, forbidding to give tribute to Caesar." 
The charge is really a charge of insurrection. 
And the charge is false. When tribute was 



Il6 THE VANISHING OF THE PRINCE. 

asked of Jesus and his disciples at one time, 
lie sent Peter to tlie sea to catch a fish, in 
whose mouth Peter found a piece of money 
which he gave, paying tribute for himself and 
his Master. The Nazarene was not an insur- 
rectionist. He did pay tribute. The second 
part of the charge was that he claimed to be 
Christ, a king. This is the same charge upon 
which he had been condemned by the Sanhe- 
drim, with the simple difference that the San- 
hedrim called the crime blasphemy. Blas- 
phemy was punishable by death. Now, the 
charge had to be recast to make it of any 
weight in the Roman court. The prisoner 
had said he was the Christ, the Son of God. 
The Jewish idea of Christ was that he was to 
be a temporal king, and that he was to con- 
quer Rome. This was a serious charge. If 
only the Nazarene had come with an army 
sufficient to overthrow the Roman power, 
these same accusers would have been first 
to be what they now accused him of being 
— insurrectionists. But this man had come 
as a teacher of unpalatable doctrine, and 
suddenly these haters of Rome became loyal 
to Rome that they might murder a teacher 
whose doctrine in every particular condemned 
them. 



THE ROMAN TRIAL. 



117 



Pilate did not seem to think it worth while 
to spend time over the first part of the charge. 
He looked toward the prisoner and waited for 
him to answer. But the Nazarene preserved 
a composed silence. Pilate therefore called 
him into the hall and there asked him directly : 
" Art thou the King of the Jews ? " 

Jesus explains that his kingdom is not of 
this world, for if it were then his servants 
would fight to save him. 

Pilate asks him : " Art thou a king then ? " 

Jesus answers that he is. That he is king 
of truth ; and has come to bear witness to the 
truth. 

Pilate is satisfied that this king, dreaming 
of truth ^ is not a foe to the Roman govern- 
ment, and that he is not an insurrectionist. 
He dismisses the audience by asking, ^' What 
is truth and passes out, leaving the guard 
to bring back the Nazarene. 

Once more on the throne, in presence of 
the people, Pilate pronounces this memorable 
sentence of acquittal : "I find no fault in this . 
man." 

Then the malicious hatred of the mob 
breaks forth in charges and counter-charges, 
and calls for punishment. Through all, the 



Il8 THE VANISHING OF THE PRINCE. 

prisoner stands quiet in the midst, answering 
not a word, until even Pilate is astonished. 

Suddenly, Pilate catches the word Galilee " 
in the din of shouting voices. He began 
teaching in Galilee." Then Pilate asked if 
the prisoner were a Galilean. Finding this 
to be so, he sent him to Herod, who was 
tetrarch of Galilee and was now in Jerusalem 
attending the feast. 

Thus ended the first Roman trial. Perhaps 
there is nothing in it more noticeable than 
the spirit of hatred that moved these high 
priests and elders of the people. Hatred and 
vengeance were characteristic of them. They 
hated the Romans and longed to execute 
vengeance upon them. They hated Jesus of 
Nazareth, and now were clamoring for his 
blood. This spirit did not bring them happi- 
ness. This spirit has never brought men 
happiness, and it never can do so, for it is the 
spirit of war. It is the spirit that is quick to 
take offense and slow to forgive an injury. 
He who lives in this spirit finds himself com- 
pelled to tolerate one enemy for the sake of 
wreaking vengeance upon one worse hated. 
The object of hatred is usually better than 
the person that hates. There is a holy wrath, 



THE ROMAN TRIAL. 



121 



born of righteousness ; but that is better called 
love of God and of godliness. This spirit of 
wbicli we speak is not holy wrath, it i? ma- 
levolence. It dwells in a wicked heart, and 
so is usually directed against good. 

The guard with the prisoner has reached 
the palace of Herod Antipas. A forerunner 
has heralded the coming of the prisoner. 
Herod is rejoiced. He has heard much of 
this man, and for a long time he has desired 
greatly to see him. History has given in 
Herod Antipas the record of a character that 
would be most despicable, were the man worth 
our indignation. He cared for nothing but 
to gratify himself with wealth, and wine, and 
women. He lived for the day, and sought to 
squeeze the cup of personal gratification full 
from the ripe fruit of the tree of carnal-mind- 
edness. 

Ha ! " thought Herod, this is rich ; this 
man will be more entertaining than all my 
tricksters. I will have him perform some 
miracle. It is dull enough here during this 
uproarous feast." 

Before this man, gorgeously arrayed, is 
brought the Nazarene, his white robe dust- 
stained, blood-stained, his hands bound, his 

7 



122 THE VANISHING OF THE PRINCE. 



face bearing the marks of the Jewish insults, 
— before Herod he is brought for judgment. 
The contrast ! Purity, foulness ; one great 
purpose, no purpose ; self-sacrifice for love of 
men, selfishness for love of one man, Herod. 

Herod sets about entertaining himself at 
once. He asks the prisoner many questions, 
seeking to draw him out. But, no. Herod 
never so much as heard the sound of the voice 
of the Nazarene. This silence, however, is not 
obstinate. The whole proceeding is beneath 
the dignity of law, and the whole spirit is 
malevolent. The holy Christ will have no 
part in it ; not even to defend himself. 

Herod is at last exasperated. No word, no 
miracle, no entertainment of any kind ! That 
is too much. What is that of which you 
accuse this man ? " he cries. 

The people clamor their oft-repeated charges. 
King of the Jews ? King of the Jews ! 
Is he ? Well, he does not look like it ! 
Here, soldiers, put on him this gorgeous 
apparel. There, he looks more like a king ! 
Now do him honor ! " 

And Herod and the soldiers mocked him, 
and mocking, they took him back to Pilate. 

Thus ended the second trial before the 



THE ROMAN TRIAL. 



123 



Roman authorities. And still the prisoner 
is uncondemned ; and the charges preferred 
against him are made the subject of Herod's 
coarse wit. 

Herod is a good commentary on the effect 
of a carnal life upon manhood. The love of 
pleasure is enervating, and the pursuit of it 
is basely degrading. Fun and frolic are in 
place among the lower animals and among 
young children. Let the lambs frisk ; but 
even a lamb ceases to frisk at a tender age. 
Let kittens play and amuse themselves with 
a ball ; but even a kitten has wit enough to 
become a cat. Let little children play and 
romp ; but when a due proportion of life has 
been given to the romp of childhood, it is then 
a most pitiable sight to see what in children 
is frolic become in young men and in young 
women frivolity. Herod followed the motto : 

Be a child as long as you can," and so he 
never became a man, but spent his life a 
spoiled, a wayward, a wicked child. No, not 
that, for with the years of manhood comes the 
responsibility of manhood ; and that responsi- 
bility ignored, the spoiled child becomes an 
ignoble, worthless man. Too large in stature, 
with too much responsibility for a child, he is 



124 ™^ VANISHING OF THE PRINCE. 



a dwarfed, wizened, useless man. There is 
nothing in the world more contemptible and 
more pitiable than a human being come to 
full stature intoxicated with the love of pleas- 
ure. Such was Herod, and his race is not 
extinct. 

The tardy day still lingers in the east as 
the prisoner is taken back in his mock royalty 
to the palace of Pilate for his third Roman 
trial, the sixth trial in all, and happily the 
last. 

Pilate at once called together all the chief 
priests and rulers of the people, and reviewed 
the previous trial and the trial of Herod, and 
again pronounced his sentence of acquittal, 
saying, however, that he would proceed to 
examine him by scourging, and then let 
him go. 

It was the custom that at this feast the 
governor should release to the people any 
prisoner whom they might choose. It is 
Pilate's hope now to release Jesus unto them. 
He knows that the prisoner has been deliv- 
ered up for envy, and he hopes that the 
scourging to which he promises to subject 
him will suf&ce to appease this fierce spirit 
and to make the release possible. He is the 



i 




THE ROMAN TRIAL. 



127 



more anxious to secure the prisoner's release 
because of a message just received from his 
wife, warning him to have nothing to do with 
the condemnation of this man, because of 
a certain dream that she has had concerning 
him. 

But Pilate has misjudged the depth of malice 
in the hearts of these accusers of the Naza- 
rene. Men are never so bent upon vengeance 
as when the object of their wrath has rebuked 
the besetting sin of their hearts. The voice 
of malice must clamor louder, louder, that the 
voice of conscience may be out-cried, sub- 
toned, and over-toned. The derision of the 
devil must be made louder than the call of 
God. So, while the scourging is going on 
and while Pilate is being warned, the chief 
priests and elders of the people are moving 
about here and there among the crowd, largely- 
forgetful of their priestly dignity in their 
determination to carry their point against the 
prisoner. First in this man's ear and then in 
that man's ear they hiss : Call for Barabbas, 
and let Jesus be crucified ! " They have done 
their work well, for when Pilate comes out 
again, the multitude is ready with its awful, 
inhuman cry. 



128 THE VANISHING OF THE PRINCE. 

Scourging was in itself a punishment under 
which the sufferer often died, cheating the 
cross of its victim. But when this occurred 
it was a mistake. The scourger had not 
properly measured the prisoner's vitality. The 
Nazarene had been taken to the usual place, 
and in addition to this awful torture, he had 
there been still farther mocked. Here it was 
that the crown was made by intertwining 
branches of a thorn bush. Here the King of 
the Jews was crowned. In his hand a reed 
was placed for the scepter, and here the hard- 
ened executioners and their brutal friends 
bowed the knee, wagged their heads, smote 
upon the lacerated back and in the suffering 
face with the palms of their hands, until Pilate 
thought the punishment had gone far enough 
to pacify even these malicious accusers. Then 
he returned to his judgment-seat before the 
people, leaving the prisoner to be brought out 
a little later. 

The mob becomes suddenly quiet, anxious 
to hear what next Pilate will say. But the 
silence is like the silence before the outbreak 
of the storm — like the silence that follows the 
flash of distant lightning. 

Pilate speaks : " Behold, I bring him out to 



THE ROMAN TRIAL. 



129 



you, that ye may know that I find no crime 
in him." 

There is a sudden stir in the multitude and 
a murmur arises like the rising of a mighty 
wind : but suddenly it breaks not forth. 
Every eye follows Pilate's pointing finger. 
"Jesus therefore came out, wearing the crown 
of thorns and the purple garment." That 
crown of thorns rests above a noble brow, 
lofty in innocence, in purity, and in power ; 
above quiet eyes from whose deep springs of 
love a mute appeal, for the moment, touches 
even Pilate's heart. That crown of thorns 
above that perfect face, so stained with its 
own warm, oozing blood, — that crown upon 
the noble head, above the purple robe that 
scarcely hides the cruel punishment, — that 
crown of thorns, O Son of God, proclaims 
thee King of Kings ! No king before wore ever 
such a crown. There have been crowns of 
gold, aglow with priceless, precious stones ; 
but what crown can ever so become the King 
of Kings as this crown of thorns, aglow with 
love? Can men resist such majesty? Nay, 
Pilate, speak not. Let the silence speak. 
What, Pilate, thou so moved? Speak then. 

" Behold, the man ! " 



130 THE VANISHING OF THE PRINCE. 



But his emotion is not shared by the mob 
before him. Pilate is wicked enough ; but he 
has nothing personal against this prisoner, 
and so his heart is open to sympathy. But 
these high priests bear him personal malice. 
So it is always. Selfishness is the lens that 
distorts every object seen through it. Only 
let selfishness reign supreme, and men see 
the devil as God, and God as the devil. 
Other forms of sin are marvelous distorters 
of vision, but the most terrible dangers of sin 
are never approached until sin takes root in 
selfishness. Wicked Pilate could see that the 
Nazarene was innocent ; but these priests, be- 
cause he had condemned their sin, saw him 
a blasphemer, worthy of death. 

Pilate's exclamation was hardly spoken when 
the cry burst from the multitude : Barabbas 
— release unto us Barabbas." 

" What then shall I do unto him whom ye 
call the King of the Jews ? " 

And now for the first time is heard, at the 
first faintly, as if to break the terrible truth 
slowly upon the rabble, then louder and louder, 
until it becomes a hoarse and continuous yell, 
that awful word, Stauroson^ Stauroson — 
crucify, crucify ! " 



o 

< 

w 

c 
g 

> 
w 

w 



THE ROMAN TRIAL. 



Pilate gets the ear of the multitude agaiu, 
and asks: ^' Why, what evil hath he done?" 

They answer with a prolongation of their 
cry for the prisoner's blood. 

Pilate, who is anxious to be free from all 
complicity in the matter, answers them : Take 
him yourselves, and crucify him." 

The Jews answered : We have a law, and 
by that law he ought to die, because he made 
himself the Son of God." 

When Pilate therefore heard this saying, 
he was the more afraid." He then took the 
prisoner aside again and questioned him con- 
cerning his origin ; and again he came out to 
the people, seeking to release him. But the 
wily Jews now made their final, decisive turn 
in the charge. Their Messiah was to be a 
king — the temporal king of the Jews. This 
Nazarene professed to be the Messiah, there- 
fore he claims, said they, to be a temporal 
king of the Jews, and so he is in insurrection 
against Caesar. 

Pilate knew that this was not true. He 
knew that the Nazarene claimed only to be 
king of truth. But that awful name, Caesar 
— at that Pilate trembled. 

And while he trembled the mob cried on : 



134 I'HE VANISHING OF THE PRINCE. 



" If thou release this man, thou art not Cae- 
sar's friend: every one that maketh himself 
a king speaketh against Caesar." 

Pilate wavers and trembles. Here is almost 
another insurrection to be reported to the 
dread Csesar. What is a life more or less to 
the quiet of the country and to the safety of 
Pilate? The die is cast. Bring me water," 
said Pilate. 

The mob grows quiet and attentive. Pilate 
washes his hands before them, saying : " I am 
innocent of the blood of this just person : see 
ye to it." 

And then the Jews raise that terrible cry 
that has rung its awful echoes over them 
from that dread day to this : " His blood be 
on us, and on our children." 

Then he released Jesus Barabbas, the mur- 
derer, to go free ; but Jesus of Nazareth he 
delivered to be crucified. 

Pilate, Pilate, did that water wash the stain 
of blood from off thy soul ? Can a man do a 
wrong and while doing it say, I am guilt- 
less " ? The blood of the Christ has been a 
curse upon the Jews, truly. But the curse 
rests upon Pilate as well. And so to-day. 
Men may say, I will have no part nor lot in 



pii^atp: washixCt his hands. 



THE ROMAN TRIAL. 



this matter of Christ or of his religion ; I wash 
my hands of the whole matter." But not so 
can the responsibility be shifted. Already men 
know about the claim of Christ, and this 
knowledge must be recognized and supple- 
mented until a fair and true decision is reached, 
or else it must be thrust aside by some un- 
availing subterfuge — the washing of the hands 
of Pilate. But the blood, the blood of Christ 
upon thy soul, marks thee for destruction, 
unless by its atoning sacrifice, by thy love 
acknowledged and by thy faith applied, it 
shall wash its own stain out and mark thy 
soul for heaven. 



CHAPTER VII. 



VIA DOLOROSA. 

But Jesus he delivered up to their will." 
The threatening attitude of the mob was 
changed at once to an attitude of fiendish ex- 
ultation. The muttering thunder of their 
wrath was immediately lightened, and the 
pitch in which they shouted their joy was a 
third above the pitch in which they pressed 
their demand for blood. Pilate sighed, and as 
he dried his hands, he went into his palace. 
He had bought peace; but at how great a 
price he never knew. He then ordered that 
two malefactors, who were at the time await- 
ing execution, should be crucified with the 
Nazarene. 

Preparation is made for the execution as 
fast as possible, the Jews hurrying the work, 
for it is now almost mid-afternoon, and they 
are anxious to be free for the sacred service of 
this holy paschal feast. Hasten the murder 
of the Son of God, for it is nearing the time 
for the especial worship of God. Scold the 

[138] 



VIA DOLOROSA. 



children through their supper, and hurry 
them, crying, to bed ; or send them with 
threats onto the street to care for themselves, 
for it is nearly the hour of prayer at church, 
and you must not be late ! 

While the crosses are preparing, the mock- 
ery and the buffeting of the prisoner still 
go on. 

The cross was a rude affair. It was no 
smooth and polished, finely jointed and flower- 
bedecked frame. The floral cross is the real 
cross, covered by the love of thousands of res- 
cued souls. But the real cross was a simple 
affair, rudely constructed, of a beam and cross- 
piece, the timber being as small as the strain 
upon it would permit. Sometimes the cross- 
piece was nailed to the post before it was car- 
ried from the prison, sometimes the post was 
deposited at the place of execution before the 
arrival of the criminal, who was required to 
carry the cross-pieces, if there were two, in the 
shape of a V across the back of his neck and 
bound to his arms. 

At last the crosses are ready and the crimi- 
nals are brought out. One of the malefactors 
goes before and the other perhaps follows the 
Nazarene. A great crowd has now gathered. 



140 THE VANISHING OF THE PRINCE. 

The news that there is to be a triple crucifixion 
has spread through the city, and a current of 
human life has set toward the tower of An- 
tonio on the eastern wall. It is a mixed 
throng. Jews from all parts of the world are 
here to attend the feast. To many of them 
this spectacle is new. Here are women as 
fierce and as furious as the men. And here 
are others softly crying in sheltered places.* 

In one of these places a little girl is pulling 
at her mother's arm and saying: "Why do 
you weep so, mama, these are wicked men who 
ought to die. Let us go home." 

The mother dries her tears, saying, Hush, 
child, one of them is Jesus of Nazareth." 

" Why, mama," she answered, in the whis- 
per of awe, was it not Jesus who raised me 
up when I was dead? " 

" Yea, Talitha." 

" O, mama, he was so gentle and so good I 
Cannot papa save him ? " 

He has tried, darling ; is trying still. It 
is no use. They will kill him." 

Then she adds more calmly, and with the 
awe in her eye and on her lip, " It must be so, 
the prophets have foretold it." 



VIA DOLOROSA. 



141 



Yonder is the mother of Nain, leaning on 
the arm of her only son. 

Yonder, a beautiful group, are Mary and 
Martha and Lazarus. 

And there a man rushes past, his eyes 
aflame, his loins girt, a sword in his hand. 

"Stop that man, look out! " shouts one. 

A dozen hands are upon him. " What 
wouldst thou, friend, with thy naked sword ? " 

" Have you not heard ? They are about to 
crucify the Nazarene." 

"Well, what of it?" 

" Why, I was born blind, and he opened 
mine eyes ! " 

They disarm him, saying, " It is useless, 
friend. The soldiers are guarding him. They 
will kill thee and buffet him for thy friend- 
ship." 

He moves away, the healed eyes raining 
tears. 

So by little and little they gather from far 
and from near, the priests with the rabble 
under command, the lepers whom he had 
healed, the lame whom he had made to walk, 
the deaf whom he had made to hear, — these 
all come to weep and to wail along the awful 
way to Calvary. 



,142 THE VANISHING OF THE PRINCE. 

Down from the tower into the valley of 
Gihon, along the valley toward the north, this 
strangely mingled crowd follows the lead of 
the guarded prisoners. 

The site of the crucifixion cannot be deter- 
mined wdth certainty at the present time, for 
within the lifetime of some who followed the 
Nazarene to his cross, Titus came with his 
Roman army and left not one stone upon 
another, excepting the three great towers and 
a part of the western wall. The city was 
reduced and dug up until a traveler would 
wonder where the people lived who built those 
towers and that piece of wall, and wherefore 
they were built. Yet some traces of the an- 
cient cit}^ have been preserved in the records 
of the conquerors, and some were preserved 
by tradition, until they were incorporated in 
the histories of later times. But here arise 
great difficulties, for tradition has become con- 
fused ; and we are left largely to archeological 
research to learn the truth. So far as explora- 
tion on the field has given anything up to the 
present time, the most probable site of Calvary 
or Golgotha is a little north and east of the 
old or Damascus gate. 

Up the valley of Gihon, then, toward the 



I 



I 



VIA DOLOROSA. 



Damascus gate this long procession takes its 
way. Afar in the rear, men and women are 
pushing on in silence, moved by that morbid 
curiosity that leads so many to scenes of 
bloodshed and death. Eager to see and to 
hear, yet dreading the awful sight that they 
anticipate, they are already shrinking from 
the mad shouts that sound hoarse from the 
upper end of the line. As we come nearer 
toward the head of the line, this shrinking 
timidity gives place to a growing enthusiasm, 
which still farther up finds vent in cries and 
curses and vile imprecations, mingled with the 
well-known Jewish wail of woe. 

One man in particular attracts our attention. 
He is eagerly pressing his way toward the 
head of the line. He seeks the border of the 
crowd that he may move more freely. He 
comes up abreast of the prisoners and imme- 
diately presses, elbowing his way, toward them. 
When he comes in sight of the Nazarene, he 
stops, only to be hurried on by the mob. 
With a look of the deepest sorrow on the faint- 
ing sufferer, he moves along quietly by his 
side. 

The Nazarene is nearing his end. He has 
had no rest for weary hours. L<ast night he 

8 



146 THE VANISHING OF THE PRINCE. 

ate the Passover with his disciples and dis- 
coursed to them nntil midnight. Then fol- 
lowed the exhausting struggle in Gethsemane. 
Immediately the mob came to arrest him. 
From Olivet he was taken to Annas, and from 
that time to this, with but short intermissions, 
he has been enduring blows and insults, in- 
cluding the awful Roman scourging with 
loaded lash, upon the naked back; including 
blows upon the thorn-crowned head, and the 
hand strokes of the insulting soldiers. 

He has passed through six successive trials, 
and has been weakened by this mental strain, 
at a time when his body was weak from buffet- 
ing and from loss of blood. And now for some 
distance the transverse beams of his cross 
have been growing heavier and heavier upon 
the shoulders that are fast bowing lower and 
lower. 

One of our master painters has produced a 
noble picture of Jesus working at the carpen- 
ter's bench at Nazareth. By an ingenious 
arrangement of tools, hanging in the case- 
ment, the sun streaming through the western 
window throws the shadow of a cross upon 
the workman's shoulders. Ah, that cross is 
no shadow now ! At every added stroke from 




Jxapkael. 

CHRIST FALI^EN. 



VIA DOLOROSA. 



149 



the hardened wretches who jeer beside him, 
our Nazarene grows weaker. See that ruffian 
strike him with a stick ! Ah, he falls, faint- 
ing! The friend who has been walking be- 
side him catches him as he falls. 

The soldiers place him rudely on his feet 
again, and lay hold of his friend, saying, 
" Here, fellow, thou art his friend, thou shalt 
bear his cross 1 " 

The rabble laugh, and Simon of Cyrene is 
happy, for have not those glazing eyes turned 
full upon him one fond look of love? And 
now Simon comes in for his share of the 
sport. This, however, is considered a huge 
joke on Simon, and he is not injured in any 
way. But against the Nazarene the bitter 
rage continues. 

Where now are his friends; the sick, the 
maimed, the halt, the lame, whom he has 
healed ? Where are the multitudes whom he 
fed? Where is the throng that but a few 
days ago bore him into Jerusalem shouting : 
" Hosanna ; Blessed is he that cometh in the 
name of the Lord " ? They are all with the 
nine lepers. O, the selfishness that forgets 
the Saviour! Blessed be Simon of Cyrene 
He was willing to bear the offense of the cross 
for the Saviour's sake. 



150 THE VANISHING OF THE PRINCE. 



Every insult offered the Nazarene goaded 
Simon on. The opposition of Judaizers was 
a continual spur to Paul. But outward perse- 
cution has long since ceased for us, and now, 
if we discern not the " spiritual wickedness,'' 
the Saviour seems to have ceased from his 
suffering, and we lay down the cross. But 
the unregenerate world is not less wicked now 
than then. Perhaps its wickedness is more 
refined, but not less. Better far was the vin- 
dictive hatred of that mob than the quiet, self- 
satisfied smile of the unregenerate world to- 
day. Judas and Pilate and Herod and this 
howling mob have all gone by, long, long ago, 
each to his own place ; and to the same place 
have gone those who have openly sneered, or 
quietly smiled, or passed unnoticed by, the 
suffering Nazarene, the Son of God, the thorn- 
crowned King of Truth, the King of Kings. 
The ages have spoken it, and the coming ages 
shall verify the truth of it : It is better for 
thee, O Simon of Cyrene, the bearer of his 
cross, than for Caiaphas or for Pilate or for 
Caesar. It is better for the humblest mother, 
bearing the cross of Jesus, than for the might- 
iest earthly potentate who fails to bear that 
cross. 



VIA DOLOROSA. 



The Damascus gate stands open for the 
exit of the crowd. As the soldiers and those 
immediately about them approach the place 
of execution, the fever of expectancy runs too 
high for farther mockery of the prisoners, and 
an awful hush, broken only by the tramp of 
the crowd and by the more slowly dying wail 
of the sympathizers, begins to creep over the 
advancing host. 

They begin the ascent of the hill just to 
the right of the gate and a little out from the 
wall. Now the mockery has ceased, and the 
wail of the women is more distinctly heard. 
Indeed, the sight of the rounded hill has 
awakened many a voice that had before been 
silent. The cry falls painfully upon the ear 
of the Nazarene. He stops for a moment. 
With a last flash of energy he stands erect as 
he was wont to stand. The sudden transfor- 
mation holds his keepers mute. They recall 
the night of his arrest. That awful majesty 
is with him now. 

He speaks in his own clear voice once more : 

Daughters of Jerusalem, weep not for me, 
but weep for yourselves, and for your children. 
For behold, the days are coming, in which 
they shall say. Blessed are the barren, and 



152 THE VANISHING OF THE PRINCE. 



the wombs that never bear, and tbe breasts 
that never gave suck. Then shall they begin 
to say to the mountains, Fall on us ; and to 
the hills, Cover us. For if they do these 
things in the green tree, what shall be done 
in the dry ? " 

Their grief at the suffering of the prisoner 
was commendable, but their danger was greater 
than his. Had not the fathers of Israel said 
but a few hours before, ^' His blood be on 
us, and on our children " ? They could not 
now remember the parable that he had re- 
cently spoken, in which he had represented the 
kingdom of God as taken away from them and 
given to a nation bringing forth the fruit in 
its season. Those days were drawing near. 
Jewish hatred was not usually so united as 
to-day. The Jewish nation was rent and 
distracted with internal dissension, and with 
marvelous rapidit}^, after this awful day, these 
factions pushed each other to their simulta- 
neous ruin. Insurrection followed insurrec- 
tion, until finally Jerusalem came into posses- 
sion of the Jews. Then, when their enemies 
were for a moment held in check, they fell to 
warring among themselves. The conservative 
party advising to submit to Roman rule again. 



VIA DOLOROSA. 



while some hope of salvation from extermina- 
tion remained ; but the radical party silenced 
such counsel by massacring those advisers. 
And so, while provision was growing short in 
the cit}^, while Titus was fortifying his posi- 
tion and taking the outer walls, the Jews trod 
upon each other and killed each other ; and the 
mothers who heard the awful warning of the 
Nazarene as he stood still for a moment in 
the via dolorosa to speak kindly to them, now, 
according to his word, were weeping for them- 
selves and for their accursed children. 

To-day along this path of woe, the Man of 
Sorrows holds his way to expiate the sins of 
men upon the cross. And the men for whom 
he is about to die, with the fore-shortened vision 
of the unrenewed human heart, are about to 
slay their benefactor. So some continue to 
hail the Saviour along the via dolorosa that he 
still treads from the hall of judgment to the 
cross, to hail him on with insult and with 
mockery, until, too late for salvation, the hand 
of justice and of judgment is at last allowed to 
fall where the hand of mercy and of peace was 
so long extended and so persistently refused. 
Here, with the agony of death for your sake 
upon him, the Saviour makes his last earthly 



154 ™h vanishing of the prince:. 



appeal. Weep now for yourselves and seek 
safety beside this prisoner — your prisoner — 
yourself in punishment — if you will accept his 
offering of himself in your stead. Accept his 
outstretched hand, and respond to the urgency 
of his love. But if not, your Titus will come, 
your Jerusalem shall lie a waste — a heap. 

It is spoken. It was the last sublime lifting 
of that poor human body to its full height. 
The passing strength has left it weaker than 
before, and now he climbs the last few rods of 
that awful hill with fast-failing strength and 
awful pain. The weariness of death is upon 
him. 

Up, up Golgotha ! 
Ha, fainting? Use the goad. See, that 
revives him." 

Up, up Golgotha ! 
Come, Nazarene, you climb as if this little 
slope were steep ! Calvary is no more than a 
rounded knoll." 
Up, up Golgotha ! 
Perhaps your sins are heavy ; but up, up, 
we are just at the summit now ; and up, on 
Golgotha, the penalty of all sin is paid." 



o 
o 

o 
o 



CHAPTER VIII. 



GOLGOTHA. 

The summit of Golgotha is reached. It 
is about the third hour, or according to our 
mode of reckoning, about nine o'clock in the 
morning. 

The crucifixion of the two thieves is going 
on near by on either side ; but their awful 
cries of agony fail to distract the attention of 
any who can crowd near enough to watch the 
Nazarene. He is exceedingly weak and it is 
a matter of doubt in the minds of the soldiers 
whether he will survive long enough to be 
crucified. They hasten to give him the stu- 
pefying drink which it was the custom of the 
noble women to prepare for criminals about to 
suffer the extreme torture of the cross. But 
the prisoner refuses to take it. Two cups were 
before his lips : this cup of drugs that would in 
part relieve him from the pain of crucifixion ; 
the other, the cup of suffering for the sins 
of the world. And we remember those words 
that he spoke to Peter last night at the time of 

[157] 



158 THE VANISHING OF THE PRINCE. 

his arrest : " The cup which the Father hath 
given me, shall I not drink it ? " He will drink 
it with full consciousness to the dregs. 

It is the work of a moment to spike the cross- 
piece onto the upright post of the cross. The 
hole is already dug into which this post will 
be sunk when the victim is in place. The 
cross is prone upon the ground. The prisoner 
is stripped of his garments. He is laid back 
downward upon the cross. A rude pin in- 
serted in the upright post will serve as a seat 
to help in part to support the body. The arms 
are stretched upon the transverse piece. The 
dull thud of nails piercing the hands and feet 
is heard and is lost in the words of the prayer 
that reveals again the heart of God and the 
spirit in which men must meet him. Father, 
forgive them ; for they know not what they do." 

We have already spoken of the malevolent 
spirit of the Jews. Notice the contrast between 
that spirit and this. This is the spirit that is 
free from malevolence. This prayer does not 
carry with it remission of the sins of these 
murderers. It is not a prayer that these men 
may be saved, without repentance, from the 
punishment that justice must mete out to them. 
It is simply the expression of the love that 



GOLGOTHA. 



^59 



cannot hate an enemy because he is an enemy. 
The love that would plead ignorance, wherever 
possible, in mitigation of crime. These men 
who drove the nails were simply the agents of 
the law. The law had been perverted by those 
who knew better. But these men had no 
reason to suppose that justice had been per- 
verted. No doubt Jesus also forgave those 
priests and elders who had perverted the law 
to compass his death ; but the spirit of forgive- 
ness of enemies is one thing, and the remission 
of sin and its penalties is quite another thing. 
Jesus had power on earth to forgive sin ; but 
we do not find any case where he forgave sin 
in the legal sense of remission of sin and of 
exemption from punishment except where re- 
pentance and faith are present. 

In this prayer, wrung from the Saviour's 
soul in the most trying ordeal to which a man 
could be subjected, off his guard in weakness 
and in pain, we may be sure that we hear the 
real ring of his character. The tone is love. 
Not love devoid of justice ; but love transcend- 
ing justice, if the object of that love does not 
refuse the offer of rescue. No man can under- 
stand this spirit until he learns to love in the 
same way, though not in the same degree, as 



l6o THE VANISHING OF THE PRINCE. 



that in which Christ loved. John, who stood 
by when this prayer was tittered, wrote after- 
wards : He that loveth not knoweth not God ; 
for God is love." No wonder he could write 
that sentence when he had seen the Saviour 
dying in unrequited love for men, and praying 
such a prayer for his murderers. 

Expecting screams, each hammer stayed at 
this sweet-toned prayer, and then the trembling 
hands drove home the nails. Then the centu- 
rion orders : Up now with the man. Steady ! 
Let the post down with care." With only a 
slight jar, the cross falls into its place and is 
soon made secure. 

Four soldiers, whose duty it was to watch 
the criminal until he expired, were appointed 
to each cross. Sometimes the victim died in a 
few hours ; sometimes not until the expiration 
of two, three, or more days. To these soldiers 
belonged the raiment of the criminals whom 
they had executed. They now stand about 
the cross, inspecting the garments, and, not 
without some parley, dividing them among 
themselves. All is finally disposed of except 
the long tunic which was " without seam, 
woven from the top throughout." It was a 
pity to rend it. So they cast lots for it. And 



GOLGOTHA. 



l6l 



after some loud words and much demurring on 
the part of the unsuccessful gamblers, the 
lucky fellow claims his prize. 

Through all this bartering and bargaining 
they have not noticed the steady gaze of the 
mute man upraised beside them ; but have 
haggled away as if no one were dying. But, 
as they lift their faces, the spiritual light of 
those dying eyes sends again that mysterious 
shudder through their souls, which they have 
thrice felt already. 

It makes no difference whether relics of that 
Roman cross are still to be seen in cloistered 
halls or not. That cross has long since, like 
the Saviour whom it bore, been transferred to 
the spiritual world. The cross ! It is not en- 
graved on banners. It is not carved in wood 
or in ivory or in precious stones. It is not run 
into molds. It is not framed of wood. The 
cross, with its burden, is uplifted high before 
the eye of the whole world. Golgotha's sum- 
mit is in sight of every eye. And on that 
summit is the true cross. And from that cross 
those dying eyes look down upon men who are 
dividing the property of God among themselves; 
haggling, bickering, each seeking for the most 
and for the best. Casting lots for the better 



l62 THE VANISHING OF THE PRINCE. 

parts, unmindful that above tHem is the cross, 
and that down upon them falls the steady gaze 
of God. But if perchance they rest for a mo- 
ment and look up, then they feel the power of 
that gaze, and a passing thrill of soul gives 
warning. 

So was prophecy fulfilled : Upon my ves- 
ture did they cast lots." 

The people stand looking on, reading the 
inscription above the head : Jesus of Naza- 
reth, the King of the Jews," and waiting, some 
still keeping up the excitement by passing 
from cross to cross, mocking and jeering. But 
the suspense is now largely over. The priests 
are triumphant and can rest. The mob is be- 
ginning almost to relent. Many of them had 
nothing against the Nazarene. They simply 
joined the crowd. 

Suddenly there is a commotion among the 
high priests. " How reads the inscription?" 

One reads in Hebrew, in Latin, and in Greek: 
''Jesus of Nazareth, the King of the Jews." 

"That is an insult! Go say to Pilate: 
' Write not. The King of the Jews ; but, that 
he said, I am King of the Jews.' " 

While the messenger is gone the railing and 
the mockery is revived. These chief priests 



GOLGOTHA. 



165 



will have it understood that this man is not 
their king. 

Thou that destroy est the temple, and build- 
est it in three days, save thyself : if thou art 
the Son of God, come down from the cross." 

He saved others," say they, himself he 
cannot save. He is the King of Israel ; let 
him now come down from the cross, and we will 
believe on him. He trusteth on God ; let him 
deliver him now, if he desireth him : for he 
said, I am the Son of God." 

Why did he not come down ? Certainly 
these words were not true. He who had raised 
others from the dead could certainly have come 
down before them all. But how then could 
men have been saved ? The penalty of sin is 
death. If Christ had then come down from 
the cross, this death penalty had not been paid. 
To have come down from the cross then would 
have been to leave the very greatest part of his 
earthly mission unaccomplished. Moreover, 
there was waiting a greater proof of the deity 
of the Nazarene than the mere descent from 
the cross could have been. In the plan of 
God, the curse of death is to be wiped out by 
his victorious Son. He must die that he may 
show his power over death to be resident in 



1 66 THE VANISHING OF THE PRINCE. 

himself. He might raise up another from the 
dead, and yet draw upon other sources for his 
power so to do. Now he must himself die, and 
of his own power come forth alive. Then surely 
it will be seen that " In him was life." There- 
fore he makes no response to the taunts, but 
suffers in silence. Let it appear that he is 
powerless. It will 3^et appear that all power 
is given unto him in Heaven and in earth. 

The messenger returns from Pilate with his 
answer : What I have written I have written." 
And so, for once, the truth was told concerning 
this Nazarene ; and in such languages that all 
might read, the crucifixion of the King of the 
Jews was proclaimed throughout the world and 
has come down through history to us. 

The priests are furiously enraged at Pilate ; 
they vent their spleen in still further mockery 
and in insult of their king. Even one of the 
thieves joins in the mockery, crying : Art 
not thou the Christ ? save thyself and us." 

But the other thief rebukes him. " Hold, 
cannot your d^nng senses perceive that this is 
of a truth the Son of God ? Dying with him, 
cannot you discern his spirit ? We die justly ; 
but he has done nothing worthy of death." 

Then, addressing Jesus, he says humbly : 



GOLGOTHA. 



167 



^' Lord, remember me wlien tHou comest into 
tHy kingdom." 

And the dying Saviour revives and tastes 
the sweet first fruit of the death now so near 
accomplished. He answers : To-day shalt 
thou be with me in paradise." 

And from the cross again light flashes forth. 
One thief reviles in unbelief and in rebellion 
against God, nursing bitterness in his soul 
even in the hour of death. But the other be- 
lieves and prays, repenting of his sin and 
making confession. The one goes, unspoken, 
down his dark way alone. The other, in com- 
pany with the spirit that is at home as soon as 
it is permitted, its task done, to leave the body 
in which for a time it has been imprisoned, finds 
_ his way to Paradise. 

Here is the approach to the Saviour's home 
— four steps. The Saviour himself stands on 
the third step to welcome and usher in every 
one who comes. Four steps up which the thief 
climbed, up three on the cross, and up the 
fourth the same day. The first step is peni- 
tence. We sufi"er justly." The second step 
is prayer, Lord, remember me." The third 
step is pardon, involved in the Saviour's prom- 
ise. And the fourth step is Paradise, reached 
9 



1 68 THE VANISHING OF THE PRINCE. 



ere night - fall. Penitence, prayer, pardon, 
Paradise. So short a stair, and yet you have 
not climbed to the Saviour on the step, pardon ! 
Then you cannot climb the last step, Paradise. 
There is no way to Paradise- except up these 
steps, penitence, prayer, and pardon. Climb 
the first step, and the next is easy, climb the 
first two, and you are lifted up the third, and 
carried in his arms into Paradise. 

The people are tiring of their awful sport 
and the sounds of mockery are dying away. 
The priests sneer at the words of the thief and 
the response of the Nazarene ; but his calm as- 
surance, even in this awful end, strikes them 
unpleasantly and tends to silence their ribaldry. 
The multitude becomes less noisy. They 
watch him with a vague fear. 

As the crowd has grown weary of their 
mockery and as quiet has been slowly coming 
on, some women and one or two men have been 
steadily working their way to the foot of the 
cross. They now stand there weeping. There 
is John, the disciple whom Jesus loved. Beside, 
there is his mother and his sister and Mary 
Magdalene. In a moment the roving eyes fix 
upon John, and he speaks in a low, tender 
voice, providing in his last hour for his earthly 



GOLGOTHA. 



169 



mother, saying to her, turning his eyes upon 
John as he speaks, Woman, behold, thy son ! 
Then saith he to the disciple. Behold, thy 
mother ! And from that hour that disciple 
took her unto his own home." 

Three hours have passed since the crucifixion 
took place. It is now noon. The multitude, 
weary and spent with excitement, is resting. 
Some are sitting on the ground, some are 
standing ; but all are quiet. The reaction is 
beginning to be felt. Some who have had a 
part in this base work are beginning to feel 
considerable uneasiness and are looking hastily 
here and there as if expecting some avenger. 
At every shrill cry of pain from the thieves 
they start, and then quickly act as if they had 
not been startled. But some one says : "It is 
growing dark ! " The word passes from mouth 
to mouth. No one knows when darkness be- 
gan to creep up from the valley below. No one 
knows who first became aware of it. Some 
laugh, and say it is nothing but a cloud. Those 
who have been looking for the avenger are 
certain he is coming. The darkness deepens. 
Men a few feet apart cannot see each other dis- 
tinctly. The women and children begin to 
cry. Some flee, stumbling back toward the 



I/O THE VANISHING OF THE PRINCE. 

city. But darkness is there. Others are lost 
and call to their friends. Others crouch in 
their places and cover their heads. The soldiers 
light their torches, and the light reassures all 
who are within the influence of its ra^^s. So, 
for three hours, darkness hid the most shame- 
ful «:cene in human history. 

It is about three o'clock in the afternoon. 
There has been an awful expectancy on the 
part of the multitude. They have been listen- 
ing for six hours for a cry that has not come. 
They have heard the screams of the suffering 
thieves ; but — now they spring to their feet 
and stand listening in the darkness to one 
single cry of anguish : Eli, Eli, lama sabach- 
thani?" Still they stand listening, but no cry 
follows. The darkness is not so dense ! At 
the cross, some one, moved with pity, puts a 
sponge upon the end of a reed and dips it into 
the sour wine which the soldiers used, and 
puts it to the lips of the Nazarene. But some 
one more hardened pulls him back, saying: 
" Let be ; let us see whether Elijah cometh to 
save him." The man did not understand Greek. 
The Saviour had not called for Elijah, but had 
addressed to God the cry that will be forever on 
the lips of the damned. To be forsaken of God 



GOLGOTHA. 



171 



is the second death. This was the real death 
of Calvary. The Saviour's body would have 
died without a cry. But, to be forsaken now 
by the Father, that is soul death, that is hell, 
which now he tastes for every man. In that 
cry was compressed the sum of all human sin, 
and of the endless death of all the race. That 
cry came from the soul of the Infinite. It rep- 
resents an infinitude of condemnation. 

This is an awful hour ! Heaven holds its 
breath and Hell is silent ! The body gasps 
for breath. " I thirst," he murmurs. Quick, 
the sponge ! They press it to his lips. He 
draws some of the wine out upon his parched 
tongue. The light is returning. The agony 
is passing. His eyes close and words of prayer 
are heard by those near the cross. Father, 
into thy hands I commend my spirit." Then 
once more the multitude is alert to listen. 
They hear a single cry ; but this time it is a 
cry of triumph : "It is finished ! " and they 
know that the end is come. Then he bowed 
his head and died. 

" It is finished ! " Thank God ! But what 
a plan ! Thousands of years before, this last 
act was planned, and in its merest outline it 
was made known to man. Through succeed- 



172 'THE VANISHING OF THE PRINCE. 

ing generations the world liad looked and 
waited for the coming of this God-man, and 
when he came they knew him not. But so 
the prophets had said it would be : " He was 
despised, and rejected of men." Through the 
centuries the guiding hand of God has been 
molding the destiny of men in such measure 
as the free moral agency of man would per- 
mit, until now the last great lesson is before 
the world. The world has pondered it well. 
Some, to believe and to be saved. Some, alas, 
to doubt and to be lost. But toward this in- 
carnation the ages of man had been tending ; 
and to this sacrifice for sin by one who was 
in himself a sacrifice suf&cient once for all, 
the Mosaic and Levitical temple service had 
been pointing. And now it is finished. The 
example is set. The true spirit of God is 
revealed. The Paschal Lamb is once forever 
slain. It is finished. Put out yon paschal 
fires, 3^et smoldering in the city. Break up 
your feast with song and shout, and think no 
more to-day of deliverance from Egypt, and 
of the signal blood upon the lintel and upon 
the door posts, for behold, the shadows have 
passed by and now the real presence is here ! 
O, ye blind and dumb upon the slope of yon- 
der rounded hill, would that those quiet lips 



GOLGOTHA. 



might bid you see and hear and speak the 
truth that hovers over you, but just beyond 
your ken I 

Ah, perhaps he will speak through the 
dumb voice of nature, until your scared souls 
shall realize that it is but a step into the spirit 
world. Yea, and if God so wills, but a step 
back. The earth is shaking beneath our feet. 
The bursting of mighty rocks resounds like 
thunder from the ground. The day has re- 
turned to its full mid-afternoon splendor, and 
in the clear light these things are done. Who 
are they among the tombs yonder ! Are 
they coming out of the graves ! They are the 
dead come back to life ! Now the multitude 
is panic-stricken. The chief priests and eld- 
ers of the people are gone from the cross. 
The centurion, keeping command over his 
Roman guard of soldiers, exclaims : Truly 
this was the Son of God I " And they who are 
keeping watch with him answer in awed whis- 
pers : ''This was the Son of God." The 
multitude returned to the city smiting their 
breasts. But the mistake was seen too late. 
Be not too late. Pardon is for thee if thou 
repent, otherwise thou shalt forever smite thy 
breast in unavailing remorse. 

It is now mid-afternoon of Friday. The 



174 ™h vanishing of the prince. 

Jewish Sabbath begins at sunset. This is the 
da}^ of preparation. The Jews awaking to 
the fact that the day is waning are alarmed 
lest their Sabbath should be polluted by 
these bodies remaining upon the cross during 
its sacred hours. It was customary sometimes 
to break the legs of those who had been cruci- 
fied. This was an act of mercy, and it was 
intended as such, for it usually brought the 
death that else might linger for hours or for 
da3^s. The Jews therefore sent to Pilate, ask- 
ing that the legs of these men might be 
broken and that they might be taken down 
before sunset. Pilate granted the request, 
and the soldiers performed the deed. But 
when they came to the Nazarene, finding him 
alread}^ dead, they did not break his legs ; but 
one of them, to make sure that he was dead, 
for the soldiers were responsible if he should 
be restored to life, thrust a spear into his side. 
The}^ did this wholl}' unconscious of the fact 
that, hundreds of years before, the prophet had 
said: A bone of him shall not be broken," 
and, The}^ shall look on him whom they 
pierced." 

Throughout all these mau}^ hours of suffer- 
ing, the faithful women have been watching 



GOLGOTHA. 



beside the cross. And Joseph of Arimatliea 
also has been watching. Joseph is a member 
of the Sanhedrim, but he has refused his con- 
sent to these things, perhaps the only dissent- 
ing voice in all the council. He now goes 
quietly to Pilate and begs the body of Jesus 
for burial. Pilate is exceedingly glad to have 
the body respectfully cared for, because this 
has all been sorely contrary to his wish. 
Joseph therefore returns to the hill with his 
permission, and there he finds Nicodemus, the 
man who came to Jesus by night. And, no 
doubt, John is there, and perhaps others of 
the disciples. They now take the body ten- 
derly down from the cross and carry it rever- 
ently to Joseph's new tomb, which is right at 
hand in the neighboring garden. And there, 
before sunset, the body that has served so 
well, as the hand of God made visible to men, 
is laid. 

Joseph and Nicodemus were the secret dis- 
ciples. They had never been bold enough to 
come out openl}^ and espouse the Saviour's 
cause until this last sad hour. But for a long 
time there had been this inwardly cherished 
love. We often count the Saviour's friends 
and true disciples by those who have openly 



176 THE VANISHING OF THE PRINCE. 



professed their faith and love ; but who can 
tell how many hearts are cherishing a secret 
love that may be as strong and true as is 
that of those who make an open espousal of 
his cause. But I doubt not in the hearts of 
these two disciples there was a pang of sorrow 
because they had never publicly declared their 
love for the Saviour whom now they bear to 
his rock-hewn tomb. Would it not be better 
for you, who like Nicodemus and Joseph, are 
cherishing a secret love for Jesus, to make it 
known, even as Jesus himself required the 
woman whom he healed to confess him be- 
fore all? 

The Galilean women following at a respect- 
ful distance saw where he was laid. They re- 
turned to prepare spices and ointment before 
the Sabbath began, that they might have all 
ready as soon as the Sabbath was past to come 
early to the tomb, upon the first day of the 
week, to embalm the body. 

The awful day is over. The sun, that had 
refused his light for three hours, sinks peace- 
fully below the western hills, gives a parting 
caress to the blue waters of the Mediterranean, 
and the Jewish Sabbath is begun. 

Early in the morning, despite the fact that 



GOLGOTHA. 



177 



it is the Sabbath, the chief priests and elders 
gather again before Pilate with a request that 
shows the unrest of their spirits during the 
night that has just passed. They say : Sir, 
we remember that that deceiver said, while he 
was yet alive. After three days I rise again. 
Command therefore that the sepulcher be made 
sure until the third day, lest haply his disci- 
ples come and steal him away, and say unto 
the people, He is risen from the dead : and the 
last error will be worse than the first." 

Pilate placed the guard of soldiers and the 
seal of state at their disposal, and they went at 
once to the sepulcher. Making sure that the 
body was still there, they sealed the stone with 
which the door of the tomb was closed, set 
a guard of soldiers, and went away to the 
worship of the Sabbath. 



CHAPTER IX. 



THE EMPTY TOMB. 

The Sabbatli passed without event. The 
chief priests and elders led in the festal wor- 
ship of the Passover. The Roman guard at 
the tomb of Joseph of Arimathea was changed 
often enough to insure a faithful w^atch. The 
guard itself spent the time lazily, telling 
stories, or gambling as to the probability that 
this crucified Nazarene would come forth upon 
the third day. The disciples rested according 
to the commandment. They were probably 
together the larger part of the day in some 
place where they would not be easily discovered 
by the Jews, comforting each other as best they 
could ; but in the end quietly weeping and 
waiting until the Sabbath should be over. Not 
yet asking themselves, What next ? " In the 
blindness of their sorrow they seem to have 
forgotten what the chief priests so distinctly 
remembered, that the Nazarene had said that 
upon the third day he would rise again. 

Jerusalem was late in finding sleep on Sab- 
bath night. The day had been of unusual 
[178] 



THE EMPTY TOMB. 



179 



interest, being the Sabbath of the feast. And 
after the sun had set and the Sabbath strictures 
were relaxed, the people gathered in groups to 
talk over the services of the day ; and in the 
end to speak of the crucifixion of the preceding 
day and of the pretensions of the Nazarene. 
Not a few were bold to assert that the demon- 
strations at the hour of his death were proof 
that he was a great prophet, if not indeed the 
very Messiah. So Jerusalem was late to retire 
for the night, and was slumbering heavily 
when, before light on Sunday morning, the 
first day of the week, the inhabitants were 
rudely aroused by the violent quaking of the 
earth. It was only for a moment, but every 
one was astir. And remembering the awful 
darkness and the earthquake of Friday, every 
one was alarmed. However, there was no 
repetition of the shock, and the people com- 
posed themselves again to sleep until morning. 

The center of the earthquake was at the 
tomb of Joseph of Arimathea. The soldiers 
were keeping their watch, in those ghoulish 
hours before dawn, with perhaps a weird recol- 
lection of the fact that this was the morning 
of the third day, and that soon if at all there 
would be some demonstration. Remembering 



l8o THE VANISHING OF THE PRINCE. 

tlie previous Friday and their centurion's ex- 
clamation, Truly this was the Son of God ! " 
they were almost sure that there would be 
some demonstration. Even now the watch- 
ful eye of one of the soldiers sees a perceptible 
vanishing of the darkness about them. Was 
that a glimmer of sunlight on the rock ? No, 
it is yet two or three hours to sunrise. Ah, 
look yonder, the brightness is from above | 
Two angels of the Lord descending ! They 
are bright as lightning ! They come rapidly 
down. It grows rapidly light. Their gar- 
ments are white as snow. Angel feet are 
pressing the soil of the earth beside the great 
sealed stone. With one hand one majestic 
angel rolls the stone away from the mouth of 
the tomb and sits upon it. The earth quakes ! 
The light is dazzling to blindness. The keep- 
ers feel the shock and fall as dead men to the 
ground. 

And now, witnessed by no human eye, the 
Son of Man comes forth. Gabriel, all hail ! '' 
saith he. The angel falls prostrate before the 
pierced feet as they pass by, bearing the Prince 
of Heaven into the obscurity of the garden 
beyond the light of the angels' halo. The 
stupendous miracle hardly seems a miracle, 



THE EMPTY TOMB. 1 83 

all is SO quietly and so naturally done, as if 
tlie Nazarene liad risen from a night of rest. 
And yet that body, the same, seems ^-et to be 
no more of earth, earthy, mortal, perishable. 
It is the resurrection body. 

The spell that has held the soldiers is 
slowly passing. The angels have gone within 
the tomb, and are sitting, one at the head 
and one at the feet, where the body of Jesus 
had lain. The soldiers arouse each other. It 
is nearly as dark as before the descent of the 
angels. The soldiers peer into the tomb ; see- 
ing the glory within and the angels and the 
body of the Nazarene gone, they hasten to 
the city and notify the chief priests of what 
has taken place. 

The chief priests and the elders assemble 
at once and question the guard carefully con- 
cerning the details of the appearance of the 
angels. Did you see the Nazarene come 
from the grave? " 

" No, we were blinded by the glory of the 
angels, and when we could see again he was 
gone from the tomb and the two angels were 
sitting in the tomb." 

The chief priests believed the story. They 
had no doubt of the resurrection. They had 



184 THE VANISHING OF THE PRINCE. 



been afraid of this very thing. And why 
should they not have feared it? This Naza- 
rene beyond any doubt had raised the dead. 
The chief priests believed that he had risen 
from the dead. Therefore, instead of calling 
for the execution of these soldiers, upon the 
ground that they had been asleep and that 
the body had been stolen, they plot with them 
to give currency to a story that the body has 
been stolen. In consideration of the lie that 
these soldiers are to tell, the chief priests 
agree to intercede for their lives, if the story 
comes to the governor's ears. 

For once these crafty priests outwitted them- 
selves. In giving currency to this lie, and in 
giving money to the soldiers, and in promis- 
ing them protection, they declared their belief 
that the Nazarene had risen from the dead. 
However, the story that the disciples came by 
night and stole him away gained currency 
among the Jews. Each Jew no doubt feeling 
that in this story lay his own greatest safety 
from remorse for his part in the crucifixion ; 
and so, up to the time when Matthew wrote, 
the story was still told to account for the 
empty tomb. 

While the guard has been running to the 
city and while the chief priests and elders 



THE EMPTY TOMB. 



have been gathering, quite another kind of 
company has been afoot in the gray of early 
dawn. The women, who, with the agony of 
the crucifixion still fresh in their hearts, had 
hastened to prepare embalming spices before 
sunset Friday night, are now on their way 
with these same spices to the tomb. Here are 
Mary Magdalene, Mary the mother of James, 
and Salome. They are talking together ear- 
nestly as they proceed ; and of course they are 
talking of the one great theme that fills their 
hearts. They go over all the details of the 
crucifixion, and weep along the way. They 
speak of the goodness of Joseph in securing 
the body of Jesus and in giving his new tomb 
for a burial place. Then they speak of the 
tomb and of its security. 

Suddenly one of them stops, saying : Who 
shall roll us away the stone from the door of 
the tomb ? " 

The question is a serious one. They walk 
on more slowly, considering it. 

What is that light over yonder in the 
direction of the hill? Didst thou see it?" 
Yea." 

O, there is another earthquake," they cry 
in unison, and fall upon their knees in awful 
fear. 

lO 



l86 THE VANISHING OF THE PRINCE. 



But though the shock is severe, it does not 
last long. Weak with fear, they go slowly 
forward, still wondering about the great stone 
and feeling that it is useless to go farther; 
yet irresistibly drawn toward the tomb where 
lie buried their fondest earthly hopes, and 
their highest dreams of heaven. But as they 
go farther they grow stronger. 

Some of the disciples may be there," says 

one. 

''Joseph himself may be there soon, and 
Nicodemus." 

''Surely John will be there before long; 
and Peter will not stay long away." 

So comforting and strengthening each 
other they go on with growing strength and 
quickening pace. At last they come to Gol- 
gotha ; and casting furtive glances at the 
awful crosses yet standing there, they hurry 
along the brow of the hill to the garden in 
which is Joseph's tomb. As they come nearer 
a feverish longing draws them on. The dawn 
has come, and as they reach the garden gate 
the sun shoots his first swift arrow over Olivet. 
Passing toward the tomb they see the stone — 
they stop — they look again — the stone — the 
stone is rolled away ! Each with her hand 



THE EMPTY TOMB. 



187 



Upon a palpitating heart, these women, anx- 
ious, eager, and afraid, press to the door of the 
tomb. 

Are you the one who, with trembling and 
fear, with love and hope, beset at every step 
with the conviction that insurmountable ob- 
stacles were in your way, sought the Saviour ? 
If you went on as did these three women, you 
found the stones all rolled away before you 
were near enough to lay your hand upon them. 
But perhaps that is not the way you did. You 
were alarmed at the strange light. You were 
terrified at the earthquake. And you said, I 
shall not be able to reach the object of my 
Christian desire." And so you stood still or 
turned back. And to this day you believe that 
the stone is still in your way to Jesus. How 
these women loved their Saviour ! There is a 
love for Jesus that will not let one cease to 
press on towards him. And there is a Saviour 
whose love will roll the stones from between 
you and himself as fast as you come on. 

The three women enter the tomb and are 
about to flee again at the vision of angels, when 
they are detained by the words addressed to 
Mary Magdalene : Woman, why weepest 
thou?'' 



l88 THE VANISHING OF THE PRINCE. 



SHe answers : ^' Because they have taken 
away my Lord, and I know not where they 
have laid him." 

The angel replies, Ye seek Jesus, which 
hath been crucified. He is not here ; for he is 
risen, even as he said. Come, see the place 
where the Lord lay." 

Mary the mother of James, and Salome 
obeyed the angel and went timidly in to view 
the awful place. But Mary Magdalene fled at 
his words : He is not here." What cared she 
for the place where he had lain if he was gone. 
She w^as seeking Jesus, not the place where he 
had lain. Mary was quite right. 

It is not altogether safe for us to long too 
fervently to see the places where the Lord has 
been in his mortal body. God is spirit. And 
we must learn a spiritual worship. The relics 
of things that pertained to his person while he 
was here in the flesh do not assist the soul to 
comprehend his spiritual nature. It is just as 
well that we have no certain knowledge on 
what hill the Nazarene was crucified, nor in 
just what spot he was buried. Indeed it was 
necessary that Christ should go away in his 
human person, in order that the Holy Spirit 
might take his place. Even Jesus, though the 



THE EMPTY TOMB. 189 

Son of God, could not be everywHere present 
in his human body. It was necessary that the 
human body should give place to the spiritual 
being. While we may safely learn all we can 
about the earthly life of Jesus of Nazareth, yet 
we should never forget that we can worship 
him just as acceptably in the place where now 
we are as in a church occupying the site of his 
crucifixion, or of his burial, or of his ascension. 
The place is of no moment except as it may 
quicken the emotions. We should remember 
the words of the Saviour himself : Neither in 
this mountain, nor in Jerusalem, shall ye wor- 
ship the Father." Therefore, we should not 
long too fervently to visit the Holy Land or to 
see a piece of the wood of the true cross. 

To the women who stayed, the angel con- 
tinued : Remember how he spake unto you 
when he was yet in Galilee, saying that the 
Son of man must be delivered up into the 
hands of sinful men, and be crucified, and 
the third day rise again." Then the women 
remembered these words, and hastened to re- 
mind the disciples of them according to the 
command of the angel. As they turned, they 
saw Mary Magdalene weeping outside the 
tomb. 



190 THE VANISHING OF THE PRINCE. 

They hear some one say to her : Woman, 
why weepest thou ? whom seekest thou ? " 

The voice sounds strangely familiar to Mary 
as she stands with her tear-stained face buried 
in her hands. But no, that loved voice is 
silent forever, now. 

She replies, supposing that she is speaking 
to the gardener, not giving an answer to the 
question, but revealing the in tenseness with 
which her soul is centered in the Saviour: 
Sir, if thou hast borne him hence, tell me 
where thou hast laid him, and I will take him 
away." 

The other women now see the face of the 
man who is speaking. They stand amazed, 
incredulous, ^-et slowly believing that they be- 
hold the risen Lord. 

Then the Savionr, throwing into his voice 
all his wonted love and sympathy, speaks that 
one word, Mary." 

Mary looks up for but an instant, and then 
falls at his feet crying, in an ecstasy of joy : 

Rabboni." 

The other women kneel beside her and they 
worship him. 

It was fitting that the Lord should have ap- 
peared first to Mary Magdalene. It was she 



THE EMPTY TOMB. 



who had been freed from the bondage of seven 
devils. She had followed him to the cross and 
had been the first to prepare the spices for his 
body. She had loved in proportion to the great 
blessing that she had received from him. And 
her great love had won her a favored place ; 
and it now makes hers this tender word of per- 
sonal recognition and of love. The Lord called 
her by name. Into the storm of her grief- 
tossed soul, that gently spoken word came with 
the power of those other words spoken in the 
tempest on Galilee : " Peace, be still." 

You have heard the voices of loved ones call- 
ing in your dreams, and have aroused from 
slumber startled in the darkness and silence 
of the midnight hour. You have sat dream- 
ing in the shimmering sunshine of a still sum- 
mer afternoon, when the work of the house 
was all done, and the children were not yet 
home from school, and the clock ticked loud 
in the silent house — have sat dreaming of 
childhood, and of your own school-days, and of 
your mother's voice. Suddenly you have heard 
that mother's voice as plain as in life, calling 
from somewhere in the house, calling you 
as sweetly and distinctly as of old — calling 
you by your loved home name. And you were 



194 I'HE VANISHING OI^ THE PRINCE. 



almost afraid. And yet how sweet to have 
heard it again. And how blessed to have had 
a mother to call you to her side as she so often 
did, and to soothe you when your childish bur- 
dens grew heavier than you could bear. What 
have you done all these years without the dear 
mother ? Ah ! There is another voice, that 
you have learned to hear. It has not in any 
way made the mother's voice less dear ; but it 
has soothed your spirit when homesickness, 
when world-sickness, when death, have all 
joined their dismal voices to raise a storm of 
spirit that has been like the howling of the 
wind through the forest, through the pine- 
trees near your dwelling, like the beating of 
the sleet against your window-pane. Then 
you have heard that voice. ^' Mary," it said, 
in tones low and sweet that seemed to find their 
way beneath the storm of soul and to still the 
spirit's troubled waters at their deepest ooze. 
Then from the lowest depths of being, a calm 
arose and smiled upon the surface of the soul, 
reflecting the bright image of holy peace upon 
the tear-stained face. 

As soon as the women have expressed their 
love and reverence at the feet of their risen 
Master, he says to them : Go unto my breth- 



THE EMPTY TOMB. 



ren, and say to them, I ascend unto my Father 
and your Father, and my God and your God ; " 
and, Tell my brethren that they depart into 
Galilee, and there shall they see me." 

Immediately these faithful women depart on 
their joyful errand. They find the eleven and 
others together, still weeping and lamenting, 
and still unmindful of the words : " After 
three days I rise again." The women tell 
their wonderful story, and the disciples are 
incredulous. It is impossible. The words of 
the women seem to the disciples as idle tales. 
But erelong Peter and John look at each other 
and simultaneously they arise and go quickly 
out. They join each other without a word, 
and walk rapidly toward the tomb. Faster 
and faster — is he risen ? The}^ begin to run ! 
Faster and faster — John outruns Peter, and 
comes first to the sepulcher. But he does not 
go in. He looks in and waits for Peter. If 
John is fleeter, Peter is bolder, he runs into 
the tomb. He sees the linen clothes lying 
and the napkin that had been about the head 
folded and 1}' ing by itself. Then John enters. 
Everything is in order, as if there had been 
no haste, no tumult. But the Son of Man is 
gone. There is no vision of angels. The 



196 THE VANISHING OF THE PRINCE. 



Saviour is not there to meet them. Peter and 
John turn slowly away and go quietly home, 
wondering. For they have not heard the 
words, I rise again." Certainly these words 
had sounded in their ears ; but men do not 
hear with the ears. And these words had 
never reached the understanding of these 
men. 

It seems too bad that Peter and John were 
not a little earlier at the sepulcher. John, the 
loved disciple ; Peter, the leading man among 
them ; not to these did the Saviour first ap- 
pear. These men might have been first at 
the sepulcher, first to have seen the Lord. 
There was nothing to hinder it except their 
own natures. Peter had been willing to fight ; 
but he slept in the garden, and denied befi)re 
the accusation of a young girl. These men 
were ready for any task worthy of a man ; 
but only to stay awake, simply to endure, to 
go at break of day to the sepulcher — this 
were all well enough for the women. And 
from that day to this, they have been first to 
see the Lord and first to receive from his lips 
a message of love for others, who have been 
weakest in their own esteem and who have 
been characterized by a patient love that seeks 



THE EMPTY TOMB. 



197 



to serve in little things. A Christian's sense 
of strength is, after all, his weakness ; and a 
Christian's sense of weakness is the index of 
his strength. 

We mnst not pass this point in the nar- 
rative without taking time to ask ourselves : 
" What is the significance to the world of this 
empty tomb?" Its primary significance lies 
in its testimony to the deity of Jesus of Naza- 
reth. In the presence of the history of the 
life of the Nazarene, his own assertion that he 
was the Christ, the Son of God, that he was 
one with the Father, is enough for the most 
of us. The only doubt remaining w^ould lie 
in the self-consciousness of Jesus. Did he 
know who and what he was ? Might he not 
have honestly supposed himself to be what he 
claimed to be, and have been mistaken ? It is 
enough to say here that to the earnest student 
of the gospels this self-ignorance seems impos- 
sible. He who knew what he knew, having 
never learned," must have known himself. 
He of whom it was said : " Never man so 
spake," showed a wisdom more than human. 
A deceiver, he could not have been, while giv- 
ing utterance to his great doctrines and while 
pursuing his voluntary path to death for those 



igS THE VANISHING OI^ THE PRINCE. 



doctrines. Besides, the works that he did, bore 
witness of him. He raised the dead. It has 
never been known that a man raised the dead. 
Power over death has never been in the hand 
of man. This is the power that men covet 
above all else. All science has exerted itself 
to the utmost to discover some spring of per- 
petual 3^outh, where d3dng mortals might drink 
and be 3^oung again. The next second after 
life has become extinct, all human contri- 
vances are powerless to bring it back, even for 
one more look or one more word. 

But here near Golgotha is an empty tomb, 
a tomb that the third day agone contained the 
body of the crucified Nazarene. He was dead 
beyond all possible doubt. The four soldiers 
who were left to guard the crucified criminals 
were in danger of their lives if the criminals 
escaped. In this case the certainty of death 
was greater than usual. If the Nazarene's 
legs had been broken, possibly he might have 
been in a sw^oon when buried. But a spear 
was thrust into his side, and blood mingled 
with water came out. He was dead beyond 
all doubt. He was not stolen away from the 
tomb. That were impossible, for the tomb 
was sealed with the emperor's seal, and a 



THE EMPTY TOMB. 



199 



guard of soldiers was placed over it who con- 
tinued there constantly until, in spite of them 
and in defiance of the seal, the Nazarene came 
forth upon the third day. 

If it be said that the power to come forth 
from the dead did not necessarily reside in the 
Nazarene, but that the angels of God brought 
the resurrection power, then it must be an- 
swered : These angels were from God, and by 
their presence they signified God's approval 
of the Nazarene. And the Nazarene said, 
speaking of his life : ''I lay down my life, 
that I may take it again. No one taketh it 
away from me, but I lay it down of myself. 
I have power to lay it down, and I have power 
to take it again." The resurrection power, 
therefore, lay in the Nazarene himself ; and 
this power, demonstrated beyond reasonable 
doubt before the eyes of the great Roman 
world, declares that Jesus of Nazareth was the 
Son of God — God in the flesh. Of this the 
empty tomb is proof. 

But now, if Jesus Christ was deity made 
flesh, then his message to men comes with the 
authority of God. ''He that hath ears to 
hear, let him hear! " This empty tomb puts 
the sermon on the mount into italics. Nay, 



/ 



:200 THE VANISHING OF THE PRINCE. 

this empty tomb emblazons every word that 
ever fell from those holy lips, in letters of gold 
npon the blue sky of human destiny. Lift up 
your eyes, read, man, and obey for your life. 

For your life ? Yes. For this empty tomb 
is proof that the body may rise again. The 
Nazarene can raise the dead. The dead can 
rise. And more, the Nazarene will raise the 
dead, for so he has declared. All that are 
in the tombs shall hear his voice, and shall 
come forth." Why read then for your life? 
For all are to come forth, whether they read 
or not. But be thoughtful now. They shall 
come forth ; they that have done good, unto 
the resurrection of life ; and they that have 
done evil, unto the resurrection of damnation." 
There is a second life ; there is a second death ; 
and the life is to be secured by obedience to 
what the Nazarene has taught, and only so 
may the death be escaped. 



CHAPTER X. 



A WALK OF UNBELIEF. 

The climate of Palestine corresponds very 
nearly to that of Florida. Snow sometimes 
falls, but not usually in great quantities, nor 
does it remain long. The spring rains con- 
tinue up to April, and sometimes even on to 
May. April seventh, then, if we accept this 
as the probable date of the crucifixion, found 
the spring much farther advanced than with 
us in the Northern States, at that time. Al- 
ready the whole country was green with new 
verdure, and the birds were nesting, when 
Cleopas and his brother disciple turned their 
faces toward Emmaus. Emmaus was distant 
from Jerusalem threescore furlongs, or about 
seven miles. The ground was by this time 
well settled by the early rains, and we may 
suppose that the day invited the walk. 

What the business of these two men was we 
have no hint. They seem to have been at 
home in Emmaus, for they did not hesitate to 
invite their guest to remain with them. It is 
possible that they lived in the village and had 

[201] 



202 THE VANISHING OF THE PRINCE. 



been to Jerusalem to attend the feast, remain- 
ing with the other disciples during the three 
days. However, the sweet spring air, laden 
with the perfume of flowers and warm with 
the beautiful sunshine, invited a moderate 
pace and inspired conversation. Moreover, 
their hearts were full of sorrow and of aston- 
ishment. In spite of the beauties of the sea- 
son and of the day, their conversation is colored 
by the heaviness of their hearts. As they 
walk, they are sad. The crucifixion of their 
beloved Master, even though they have heard 
the testimony of the women and of Peter and 
John that he is risen, still weighs heavily upon 
them. They seem not to have believed the 
story. 

Cleopas and his brother disciple had not 
gone far beyond the city gate when they 
became aware that a third person was walking 
with them and listening intently to their con- 
versation. At first they were a little startled 
at the unobserved intrusion. The roads about 
Jerusalem were constantly watched by bands 
of robbers, and one was never entirely safe 
from their depredations. But a single glance 
at the benignant and dignified stranger sufi&ced 
to set them at rest. 



A WALK OF UNBELIEF. 203 



After a few steps in silence, tlie stranger 
asks: "What are these things of which ye 
speak as ye walk and are sad ? The morning 
is bright, the breath of the spring is full of 
joy, but ye are sad.'' 

They look up at him in surprise. Cleopas 
answers : Dost thou dwell even for a time and 
even as a stranger in Jerusalem and dost thou 
not know of the things that have taken place 
there in these days ? Thou art the only one. 
Where canst thou have hidden thyself ? These 
things are in the mouths of strangers and of 
citizens alike." 

The man asks innocently : " What 
things?" 

Then, omitting no detail of all that had 
happened during the previous days, they 
recited to this stranger the story of the 
Nazarene. 

As they told the story, the stranger showed 
a deepening interest. The interest was an 
inspiration. The tongue of Cleopas grew elo- 
quent, and when he paused for a moment his 
friend took up the story and told how these 
things had affected him. There is strange 
comfort in simply telling to a willing listener 
the awful events of past days. And uncon- 



204 THE VANISHING OF THE PRINCE. 



sciously these two men were casting oS their 
great burden. Their storm-cloud of sorrow 
was being illumined by the sunbeam of sym- 
pathy. This stranger was more than inter- 
ested, he was touched by their sorrow, and his 
silence was eloquent. 

As these men pursued their walk and as 
they continued their story, they were more and 
more impressed by the personality of this 
stranger. Now and again they stopped ab- 
ruptly in the narrative to look at him more 
closely. There was something strangely 
familiar about him. Possibly they were con- 
scious of his resemblance to their Master. But 
he showed no sign of recognition, and waited 
with perfect composure for the narrative to 
proceed. And so, remembering that they were 
now reciting the story of the death of the Mas- 
ter whom this man resembled, they went on 
with the story. 

It is strange that they did not recognize 
him. " Their eyes were holden," the record 
says. How holden ? Could they not see fea- 
tures as they really were ? Was there some 
distortion of vision? By no means. Did 
Jesus assume a different outward appearance ? 
Probably not. He appeared to them in an- 



A WALK OF UNBELIEF. 205 



other form ; " but that other form should prob- 
ably be understood as referring to the part of a 
stranger that he assumed. This explanation of 
Mark's words is perfectly in accord with the 
use of terms, and is in better keeping with the 
probabilities of the case. Why then did they 
not recognize him ? How were their eyes 
holden? Their eyes — the eyes of their un- 
derstanding — were holden by unbelief. They 
did not believe that Jesus was risen from the 
dead. Probably they did not disbelieve it. 
There is a state of soul in which men neither 
believe nor disbelieve. Their souls are pas- 
sive. Perhaps from indifference ; perhaps, as 
in this case, from sheer amazement. They 
had heard that he was alive, but that was a 
stupendous story I Belief involves activity. 
If these men had believed that Jesus was alive, 
they would not have been sad as they walked. 
They would not have been walking to Em- 
maus, but toward that mountain in Galilee 
where Jesus had said he would meet them 
after his resurrection, and where he had told 
the women to tell them to go that they might 
see him. They did not disbelieve, perhaps ; 
but certainly they did not believe. If it had 
been Mary Magdalene and one of the other 



2o6 THE VANISHING OF THE PRINCE. 



Marys with wliom the Master had been walk- 
ing to Emmaus, they would have known him 
at once. 

Unbelief is ever blind. Men have never 
seen the truth until they have believed the 
truth. If seeing is believing, no less truly, be- 
lieving is seeing. If there must be some sight 
before there can be any faith, there must also 
be some faith before the indistinct images of 
vision are clearly seen. The truth of this is 
verified in every Christian's experience. The 
Jesus of Nazareth who is presented in the 
Gospels is the same, before one believes, that 
he is after one believes. Moreover, conversion 
may not require any added knowledge of Jesus. 
Before conversion, however, the soul does not 
recognize, in Jesus of Nazareth, its Saviour 
from sin and death ; but after conversion the 
same Jesus of Nazareth is recognized as the 
Son of God, and as a personal Saviour. Faith 
opens the eyes. You, who to-day are not a 
Christian, probably suppose that you see Jesus; 
you call yourself a believer ; but if you should 
so believe as to do what he commands, you 
would soon see that you are not now a believer, 
and that you do not see Jesus. Faith opens 
the eyes of the blind. 



A WALK OF UNBELIEF. 207 



Walking on thus blind, in the presence of 
the Light of the world, the disciples came 
toward the end of their story. " This Jesus of 
Nazareth, they crucified. But we hoped that 
it was he which should redeem Israel." ' 

The hopelessness of unbelief ! No one can 
know what these men were suffering, until he 
has realized how much they had staked upon 
the Nazarene. The Jew was most carefully 
educated in his own faith ; and, according to 
the Jewish faith, the redemption of the Jewish 
nation, and so the redemption of the people, 
was to be brought about by the Messiah. The 
people had long been looking for him. In 
him all their prophets had hoped, and of him 
they had spoken in the loftiest strains of He- 
brew poetry. In Jesus of Nazareth these men 
had seen the Promised One. They believed 
the day had come for deliverance. They had 
seen his mighty deeds. If only he would now 
turn his power against their enemies and over- 
throw these accursed heathen from the city ! 
They had been in the front of the procession 
that had hailed him into Jerusalem, and had 
publicly proclaimed him the Messiah. They 
had watched eagerly to see the outcome. 
With joy they saw the money changers driven 



2o8 THE VANISHING OF THE PRINCE. 



from the temple. That was in the line of 
their hope. But alas ! After that he had con- 
tented himself with strange teaching about a 
strange kingdom that was far from their 
dreams of glory. And at last he was dead ! 
He was buried, and their hope was buried 
with him. 

It is ever so. Unbelief follows the star of 
one's own desire, and sooner or later, that star 
will set in gloom. Jesus had taught these 
men so plainly concerning the spiritual nature 
of his kingdom, that, if they had not been bent 
upon their own expectations, they might easily 
have known just what the end would be. In a 
certain view of the subject it ma}^ be said that 
the dif&culty with these men did not lie so 
much in lack of faith in the teaching of Jesus 
as in confidence in their own idea of the nature 
of the work of the Messiah. That may be very 
true. But belief is never a living realit}^ until 
it moves the soul along the line of the object of 
belief. Belief has an easy conquest when there 
is no counter-belief in the soul. But it is not 
often that such a condition of soul is found in 
persons of adult age. Men form opinions, and 
as a rule they hold to these opinions with 
an unwarrantable tenacity. That cannot be 



A WALK OF UNBELIEF. 20g 



called faith in Christ that discards his teaching 
for one's own opinion. It is lack of faith — it 
is unbelief. This does not mean that the soul 
is in a negative state of disbelief. It means 
that the soul believes in some other thing 
more strongly than it believes in the teaching 
of Jesus. And this fact, which the soul will 
very likely deny in alarm and in indignation, 
is after all proved by the fact that the soul acts 
according to that other thing in which it be- 
lieves, and that it does not act according to the 
teaching of Jesus. Men form certain concep- 
tions of the heavenly state, for example, and 
the teaching of Jesus may flatly contradict 
that conception ; but still the teaching of Jesus 
is set aside for personal conviction. This is 
by no means an unusual case. See the hope- 
lessness of such unbelief. Some men reason 
from the human side, and conclude that eternal 
punishment of the incorrigibly wicked is not 
consistent with the justice of God. This is 
very weak reasoning, even from the human 
side. But whether the reasoning be good or 
bad, the teaching of Jesus is that the wicked 
shall go away into everlasting punishment. 
These men proceed deliberately to pervert the 
evident meaning of the Saviour's teaching so 



2IO THE VANISHING OF THE PRINCE. 



as to make it conform to their feeling in the 
case. But see the hopelessness of such unbe- 
lief. Unless the star of human desire arises 
in belief in Jesus until it has come into peri- 
helion with the Sun of Righteousness, it will 
set erelong in the darkness and in the con- 
fusion of an eternal night of storm. 

Poor Cleopas and his friend, through unbe- 
lief, had buried Jesus. And now in speaking 
of their hopes, they put them into the grave of 
the past tense, we hoped." 

But now Cleopas brightens a little, and his 
utterance grows hurried as he goes on to say: 
Moreover certain women of our company 
amazed us, having been early at the tomb ; 
and when they found not his body, thc}^ came, 
saying, that they had also seen a vision of 
angels, which said that he was alive. And 
certain of them that were with us went to the 
tomb, and found it even so as the women had 
said." And then he adds, again in the past 
tense of departed hope : But him they saw 
not." And now they lapse into silence. 

The stranger walks beside them a little way 
in mute pity. He waits for them to speak 
further. But no, they have finished the story, 
and are done. Everything has ended in 
gloom and in unbelief. 



A WALK OF UNBELIEF. 



211 



At length the almost forgotten stranger 
speaks : " O foolish men ! " 

They look up in surprise, with a little show 
of indignation. Is this all that the stranger's 
sympathy amounts to ? He calls our sor- 
row foolish. He calls us foolish because we 
grieve. That is strange sympath}^ ! " 

" O foolish men, and slow of heart to believe 
in all that the prophets have spoken ! Was it 
not necessary that the Christ should suffer 
these things, and enter into his glory?" 

These sound like the words of the Nazarene. 
Why was it necessary ? We cannot see 
any necessity but that he should have used 
his power to conquer his enemies." 

Then the stranger began, and from Moses 
and all the prophets showed clearl}^ that the 
life and the death of the Nazarene were wholly 
in accord with the true idea of the Messiah. 

There is an advantage in the setting of the 
star of human hope. The eye may then be 
lifted to behold a brighter and a truer star — 
the star of hope in Jesus. As the stranger 
talked with these two hopeless men, the scrip- 
ture that he explained teemed with a new 
meaning ; and this new meaning, as the calm 
stranger explained it, glowed with a transcend- 
ent glory of its own. When the soul is pre- 



212 THE VANISHING OF THE PRINCE. 

pared to receive them, spiritual realities are 
the most real and the most thrilling of all. 
But, until the soul grasps them, they are 
meaningless. From the grave of despair in 
the hearts of these two men, a resurrection 
day began to dawn as the stranger spoke. 
Their hearts burned within them. They be- 
gan to see that perhaps the words, O foolish 
men," with which he began his discourse, were 
true. In the presence of such evidence as was 
furnished b}^ the correspondence of these 
things that they had known concerning the 
Nazarene, and the teaching of the prophets, 
when properly understood, certainly it was 
folly not to believe that Jesus was the Christ. 
"Yea," the}^ say in their hearts, '^if these 
things be so, then the women may have been 
right, he may have risen from the tomb. If 
these things be so, he must have risen, as he 
said." 

Their vision is returning. The village is 
at hand. The stranger is going on ; but they 
urge him, and he goes into a house with them. 

" O foolish men, and slow of heart to be- 
lieve." We have heard much during the past 
few years about the folly of believing. The 
tendency of human thought has been toward 



A WALK OF UNBELIEF. 21 S 



the negative pole. Have men considered suf- 
ficiently the folly of unbelief? Unbelief is 
born of self Belief is born of God. Unbelief 
admits that the testimony may be true ; but 
it discredits the witness. " If my eyes see," 
says unbelief, " then it is certain, for my eyes 
see truly ; but your eyes may be near or far 
sighted." Unbelief depends more upon specu- 
lative philosophy and upon speculative science 
than upon evidence. The evidence may not 
be true, and if it does not correspond with my 
speculative sense of truth, I must discredit it. 
But ultimately all philosophy and all science 
must fall back upon evidence. Reason is after 
all not so trustworthy as evidence. Human 
reasoning is often most foolishly unreasona- 
ble. And already the thinking world is begin- 
ning to return to the safer ground of evidence. 
Never mind what reason says, what are the 
facts enacted before our eyes. We are not 
gods to know truth from inward speculation. 
We are men, to read, in nature and in history, 
the writing of the one great God. These men 
were foolish to refuse the testimony of the 
women who had seen the risen Saviour, even 
though their reason scouted the idea of his 
resurrection. Unbelief has been popular be- 



2l6 THE VANISHING OF THE PRINCE. 

cause it exalts man in his own esteem. But 
man is little. God alone is great. Unbelief 
is foolish. Belief is noble. 

Still another characteristic of unbelief is 
noticeable in the case of these men. Their 
unbelief was unconscious. They were not 
consciously censuring the Nazarene for the 
course he had pursued. They loved him. 
They were mourning for him. They had lost 
him. He said he would rise again. They 
evidently did not believe it; but they were 
unconscious of their unbelief And so it is 
in general. Those who are the followers of 
Jesus, who account themselves believers, real 
Christians, perhaps, have at the center of their 
belief a core of unbelief. We go farther than 
these two disciples went, we believe that Jesus 
arose from the dead. But urge the great sig- 
nificance of this fact upon the Christian world, 
and the Christian world drops the evening 
daily on the floor, yawns with both arms 
upstretched toward the ceiling, and settling 
comfortably among the cushions finally re- 
plies : " Yes, I believe it. But it is most too 
long ago that the resurrection took place to 
get up much enthusiasm over it. Have a 
cigar ? " That indifference is the worm of 



A WALK OF UNBELIEF. 217 



unbelief in the Heart of the sweet bud of faith. 
A worm that destroys the flower before it 
blooms. It is the power of darkness that 
turns the world back on its hinges just at the 
dawn of day. 

Cleopas and his friend and the stranger go 
in. It is the evening hour. They are ready, 
after their walk, for the evening repast, which 
is soon ready for them. They recline at table. 
Unasked and without offense the stranger as- 
sumes the head of the table. As of old, he 
takes bread and blesses it and breaks it to 
them. It is the Lord ! And immediately he 
is gone. The disciples look at each other in 
glad surprise and in holy fear. Then Cleopas 
says : Did not our heart burn within us, 
while he talked with us by the way, and while 
he opened to us the Scriptures ? ^' 

Unbelief ever vanishes in a vision of Jesus. 
And now, that unbelief is gone is evident, for 
they rise up at once and make haste back to 
Jerusalem to declare to the disciples there 
what they have seen and heard. Arrived in 
Jerusalem they make haste to the place where 
the disciples were often assembled, and there, 
as they expected, although the evening is well 
advanced, they find the eleven and others 



2l8 THE VANISHING OF THE PRINCE. 

with them. Cleopas exclaims at once upon 
entering the room : The Lord is risen in- 
deed, and hath appeared to Simon." Then 
they tell the story of their journey and of 
their conversation, and of how Jesus was made 
known to them in the breaking of bread. 

The eleven and those with them are aston- 
ished. The evidences of the resurrection are 
multiplying. The women are sure that it was 
Jesus. Again and again they have been called 
upon during the day to give their testimony. 
Peter and John, although they did not see the 
Lord, yet saw the empty tomb. All day the 
anxious disciples have been waiting, expecting 
to hear from him from some other sources. 
They have been waiting in an awful double 
fear ; keeping quiet for fear of the Jews from 
whom they expect persecution, if not death, 
upon the charge of having stolen the body of 
Jesus ; and on the other hand longing, yet 
fearing to see the risen Saviour, whose ap- 
pearance they hourly expect. Doubting all 
the time the fact that he has risen, yet all day 
they have been waiting. Finally Cleopas and 
his friend departed in the afternoon ; but the 
others have been still together. Now late in 
the evening Cleopas and his friend return 



A WALK OF UNBELIEF. 219 



with the astounding news that they have seen 
him. See the eager eleven gather about these 
two. With strained attention they drink in 
every word. The story is over. But one and 
another ask questions ; and parts of the story 
are repeated again and again. Unbelief is 
giving way before accumulating evidence. 

'^It must be so/' says Peter. 
It must be so," says John. 

Slowly they assumed positions of less eager 
listening ; and, while some are quietly con- 
versing, others sit deeply thinking. 

The doors are fast closed for the sake of se- 
curity ; but — a stranger is among them ! 
Whence and how ! Every one is held spell- 
bound in the position in which the new pres- 
ence found him. They suppose they see a 
spirit. They are afraid, with the awful fear 
that men feel when they know that earthly 
weapons are unavailing for protection. How 
sweetly upon their awed spirits fall the words, 
spoken in the familiar voice of the Master : 
" Peace be unto you. Why are ye troubled ? 
Why do ye question my identity ? Why are 
ye unbelieving ? Come, see my hands and 
my feet. Come, John ; come, Peter. It is I, 
myself Handle me and see. A spirit hath 



220 THE VANISHING OF THE PRINCE. 

not flesh and bones as ye see me have." The 
spell is slowly lifting. One after another they 
come nearer. They see the print of the nails 
in his hands and in his feet. Bnt even yet 
this was more than they could believe at once. 
Their very joy stood in the way of credence, 
and yet was evidence of a dawning conviction 
of the truth. And while they are yet bewil- 
dered over his mysterious entrance through 
the closed walls, he says : " Have ye here any- 
thing to eat ? And they gave him a piece 
of a broiled fish. And he took it, and did eat 
before them." This simple act of mortal need 
did much to reassure them. 

But why did not Jesus come and knock at 
the door and be so admitted as not to add this 
supernatural dread to their incredulity ? How 
much more readily they would have believed, 
if he had so appeared. Because, these forty 
days until he is received up must teach these 
men the reality of spiritual life. They must 
learn that the spirit world, though unseen, is 
all about them. They must become accus- 
tomed to feeling that Jesus, though unseen, is 
present. And to teach them this great lesson 
he must be seen, present, not coming. He 
must be seen as if he had been present all 



A WALK OF UNBELIEF. 



221 



the time, althougli until now invisible. This 
was the fact. In order that they may under- 
stand this, they must be looking at him and 
talking with him as he is seen before them, 
and while they are talking he must — not go 
away — but become unseen. So will they learn 
to know that he is still present, and so will 
they learn still to talk on to him, although he 
is unseen by mortal eye. Thus shall he be 
vanishing, while establishing them in the fact 
of his continued presence. 

Now for some time he has been talking with 
them in his old, loving manner, explaining all 
about those strange and awful things, and re- 
assuring their minds from the scripture, and 
composing them into quiet faith. He is tell- 
ing them of the great plan for the spread 
of his teaching throughout the world, and of 
their mission — when, still speaking, he is 
unseen ! But he has become invisible so 
quietly, so sweetly breathing love and the 
spirit of companionship upon them, that they 
look, from the place where he had stood, into 
each other's eyes with smiles of renewed un- 
derstanding and with a new and simple joy. 

Thus, in silent benediction closed the first 
Lord's day. 

12 



CHAPTER XL 



DEPARTING DOUBTS. 

One of tlie twelve, Thomas, called Didymus, 
was not present upon the first Lord's day 
when Jesus appeared in the evening to the 
disciples. Thomas was one of those foolish 
men who will not believe until he has seen. 
Here were ten faithful men, all reliable wit- 
nesses, all agreeing in their testimony ; two of 
these men had seen Jesus just before at Em- 
maus ; and here were Peter and John who had 
seen the empty tomb ; and here were the 
women who had seen Jesus alive at the tomb ; 
but with a sullen stubbornness that was per- 
haps as much Thomas's misfortune as it was 
his fault, he would not believe. 

It is now Monday evening. During the day 
the disciples have not been much abroad, fear- 
ing to be taken and perhaps killed by the 
Jews, upon the charge that they have stolen 
the body of the Nazarene. Now, at evening, 
in their common room, they are assembling to 
comfort one another and to be comforted. Two 
[222] 



DEPARTING DOUBTS. 223 



men are approacHing the door of this house. 
One of them is coming reluctantly. The 
other is quietly but earnestly forcing him 
along. 

" I tell thee, Peter," says the reluctant one, 
it is no use. We have been deceived. Our 
Master was a good man ; but he could not 
have been the Messiah, as he supposed, for 
then he would not have allowed his enemies 
to put him to death." 

Ah, Thomas, say not so I Thou knowest 
how I also forsook him in his hour of trial ; 
but I tell thee, Thomas, twice only yesterday 
I saw him alive. And the others saw him. 
Come in and hear their words." 

I tell thee, Peter, it is no use. I will not 
believe, unless I see him." 

Hadst thou been with us last night, thou 
hadst seen him, Thomas. Stay with us now, 
for I feel sure — yea, I feel certain that we 
shall see him again." 

The door opened slowly in response to 
Peter's continued knocking, and Thomas re- 
luctantly allowed himself to be drawn into the 
room. As he came in they all surrounded 
him, and declared that Christ had risen, and 
that they all saw him last night ; but Thomas 



224 THH VANISHING OF THE PRINCE. 



would not believe. He was annoyed by the 
persistence of tbe disciples in giving their 
testimony ; and finally lie retired from the 
company some time before they broke up for 
the night. So the days and evenings passed. 
The disciples holding onto Thomas from one 
day to the next, hoping that the Lord would 
appear again, and determined that they would 
have Thomas present when he did appear. 
As the week drew toward its close, even loving 
John and sanguine Peter found it hard to wait 
and to believe. Thomas grew more and more 
faithless. It is Friday. This day is more 
than usual a dangerous one for the disciples. 
One week ago the Nazarene was crucified. 
The strange story of his resurrection has gone 
all abroad. Hundreds have visited Joseph^s 
new tomb and have found it empty. But the 
Jews have persistently circulated the story 
that the disciples stole the body. The rage 
against the disciples is therefore growing 
stronger. 

The disciples are assembled in their room, 
and there is a shade of gloom upon them. 
The Master has not been with them since 
Sunday. Has he left them without further 
instructions ? Moreover, the doubt of Thomas 



DEPAR'TING DOUBTS. 225 



begins to Have its subtle influence over the 
weaker ones. Furtbermore, it is a day of sor- 
row, in memory of the crucifixion. 

Saturday, the Jewish Sabbath, is fast pass- 
ing. It has been a still more dangerous day 
than Friday. The Jews, more at liberty to 
discuss religious matters, have been somewhat 
turbulent, and fear has filled the secluded 
room where the disciples are waiting. The 
gloom of Friday has deepened. Thomas 
speaks more boldly of his certainty that they 
have all been mistaken. He declares his con- 
viction that some persons have stolen the 
body of Jesus — that he has not risen. Some 
are weeping. Peter has been trying to reason 
with Thomas. 

Thomas now answers loud enough to be 
heard by nearly all in the room : "I tell thee, 
Peter, thou didst see an apparition, and thy 
desire to see the Master didst make thee see, 
in this apparition, the form of the Master." 

Cleopas joins them and says : ^' Nay, 
Thomas, I also saw the Master on the way to 
Emmaus and at the supper there. It was 
he beyond doubt ; and we all saw him here 
upon the resurrection day." 

Then Thomas grew bolder and declared, so 



226 THE VANISHING OF THE PRINCE. 



that every ear was made to tingle with the 
awful unbelief : " Except I shall see in his 
hands the print of the nails, and put my fin- 
ger into the print of the nails, and put my 
hand into his side, I will not believe." 

At this they drew back from him and left 
him to his doubt. Some of the weaker ones 
came and sat beside him, and one expressed to 
him a fear that he might be right. 

But I thought you said you saw him," 
snapped out Thomas. 

"Yea — I — truly — but — as you said, it 
may have been an apparition," faltered the 
weak one. 

" Hugh ! " says Thomas, and goes off by 
himself, the unhappiest, the most hopeless, 
the most confounded of them all. 

In one part of the room the Marys and Sa- 
lome are talking together in low tones. The 
women gather about and listen. They are 
speaking of the vision of angels and of the 
appearance of the Saviour himself to them. 

Cleopas and Simon are talking quietly about 
the walk to Emmaus. 

John is sitting by himself in deep thought, 
and his thought is not unpleasant, for a glori- 
ous light is upon his quiet face. 



DEPARTING DOUBTS. 



227 



Suddenly Thomas starts up to leave. The 
quiet is too much for him. " May the God of 
our fathers be with you all," he says, so as to 
be heard by all, " I shall not return." 

John arises and, speaking in reply, says : 
Thomas, we who have seen the Lord can 
hardly understand thy doubt ; but come thou 
here once more — to-morrow. I have been 
thinking that he was crucified on Friday ; and 
yesterday, Friday, we were very sad remem- 
bering it. And he rested in the grave on the 
Sabbath ; and we were filled with anxiety and 
fear, and so have we been to-day. He arose 
on the First Day and appeared to many of us ; 
and so will he appear to-morrow. Come back 
to-morrow, Thomas, wilt thou? " 

" I will come back 3^et to-morrow," answered 
Thomas as he departed. 

The words of the beloved disciple fell upon 
the hearts of all as the words of a prophet ; 
and they began to hope again and to long for 
the morrow. 

"And after eight days again his disciples 
were within, and Thomas with them." They 
have been together for some time. Conversa- 
tion has flagged. Even Mary Magdalene has 
told her story until she is content to rest and 



228 THE VANISHING Ol^ THE PRINCE. 



think. Simon and Cleopas sit near Thomas, 
where they have been reasoning in vain with 
him. John sits apart with his own precious 
thoughts. All remember his words of yester- 
day, and it is nearing the time when the Mas- 
ter appeared just one week ago. A profound 
silence fills the room. The light glows brighter 
and brighter upon John's face. Peter knew 
John well. He saw the light of his face and felt 
sure that it meant something. He arose and 
went quietly across the room. His steps 
echoed loudly in the silence. 

He sat down at John's side and asked in a 
whisper, What is it, John ? " 

" The Master is here," John answered 
quietly. 

Where ? " asked Peter, in an awed whisper, 
lifting his eyes and glancing about the room. 

"I know not just where — he filleth the 
room. He will become visible soon, I think." 
Then raising his eyes to Peter, he idded^ 
" Knowest thou not that he is here ? " 

Peter was silent for a moment and then 
answered slowly, Yea, he is here." 

Again all is still. But slowly every eye be- 
gins to kindle ; every face begins to wear a 
flush of expectancy. Excepting only Thomas, 



DEPARTING DOUBTS. 



229 



all are at peace. It is enough. The Lord is 
recognized before he is seen ; and now he says 
in his well loved voice : Peace be unto you." 

No one is afraid this time — no one but 
Thomas. Looking up, he sees the Lord ! He 
looks at the fast barred door — the bar is fast ! 

His wandering eye is fixed by the Master's 
voice, speaking again — speaking to him: 
^'Thomas, reach hither thy finger, and see 
my hands ; and reach hither thy hand, and 
put it into my side : and be not faithless, but 
believing." 

For a moment Thomas did not move. He 
gazed intently upon those pierced hands. 
He saw the wound of the spear in his Mas- 
ter's side. A moment he was silent. 

Then, falling upon his knees and upon his 
face, he exclaimed : My Lord and my God ! " 

Jesus answers : Because thou hast seen 
me, thou hast believed : blessed are they that 
have not seen, and yet have believed." 

Thomas feels the rebuke. John and Peter 
and the rest feel that the blessedness of belief 
had been theirs some time before the Lord 
appeared. Some of them had become con- 
scious of his presence before he became 
visible. 



230 THE VANISHING OF THE PRINCE. 



Thomas arose, full of amazement, and took 
his seat. The Master proceeds, in his own 
kindly, loving wa}^, to speak of man}^ things 
pertaining to his own presence, which would 
be constant and continued, though unseen. 

And finally, after the old-time ease in the 
Master's presence has been partly restored, 
John sa3^s : blaster, I knew that thou wast 
here even before I saw thee. But how didst 
thou know the words that Thomas spoke 
yesterday, that he would not believe unless he 
put his finger into the print of the nails in 
thy hands and thrust his hand into thy side ? 
Wast thou here yesterda}^ ? And if thou wast 
here 3xsterda3^, why did I not know it, even 
as I knew of th}^ presence to-da}^ before thou 
didst appear ? " 

At sound of his words of doubt Thomas 
cowered in his seat behind those who stood 
before him. And the whole company now 
for the first time remembered that the Sa- 
viour addressed Thomas in the ver^^ words 
that Thomas had used the day before when 
the Saviour was not present. How did he 
come to use these ver^^ words ? They all now 
draw nearer to hear the answer to John's 
question. 



DEPARTING DOUBTS, 23 1 

The Master looked for a moment upon 
John, as if fearing that this poor mortal dis- 
ciple, the most intuitive of them all, would 
yet not be able to comprehend him as he 
spoke of spiritual things. 

And then he answered : When did I come 
to-day, John ? " 

John is thoughtful for a moment, and then 
answers : " Master, I know not. As I sat 
thinking of thee, and as the hour drew near 
when I expected to see thee, suddenly I knew 
that thou wast here ; though I could not see 
thee. How long thou hadst been here I 
know not." 

Then the Master made answer, drawing 
every soul, with that awful power of eye and 
voice, as far out of the blinding body as he 
could and still not cause dissolution : John, 
I have been beside you all every moment since 
I died upon the cross." 

Then he ceased and looked around upon 
them, hoping that they might take this great 
statement in and understand what it meant. 
No one speaks. The spell of a mighty truth 
is upon them. 

The Master continues : ''I have been beside 
you all, and at any moment I might have be- 



232 THE VANISHING OF THE PRINCE. 



come visible to any of you or to all of you 
at once ; but that ye may learn to know me 
invisible, I appear to your eyes only now and 
tben. Ye are mortal. I am now immortal. 
Your bodies must pass tbrough death and tbe 
resurrection to become as my body now is, 
immortal, and visible to mortal eyes or invisi- 
ble at will. But the natural state of my body 
now, in its spiritual form, is the invisible 
state. The miracle now is not when I become 
invisible ; but when I become visible to you. 
I stand before you now visible to you by a 
miracle. By and by when ye see me no more, 
I shall be here just as really, but the miracle 
that makes me visible will have ceased. I saw 
you both, Peter and John, when ye ran to the 
tomb. Why didst not thou go in, John? 
Thou didst wait for Peter ; then when he went 
in thou didst follow. Ye saw me not, but I 
was there. I appeared to Mary and to the 
women that they might bear witness that I was 
risen. For the same reason also I appeared to 
thee, Simon ; and to thee, Cleopas. For the 
same reason I appeared to you all in the even- 
ing eight days ago. This is what I said unto 
you at that last supper, before we went to the 



DEPARTING DOUBTS. 



garden on the mount where I was betrayed. 
Remember 3^e what I said ? ' Yet a little 
while I am with you. Ye shall seek me : and 
as I said unto the Jews, Whither I go, ye can- 
not come; so now I say unto you.' Peter, 
dost thou remember ? Thou didst say to me : 
' Lord, whither goest thou ? ' And I answered 
thee : ' Whither I go, thou canst not follow 
me now ; but thou shalt follow aftenvards.' 
Neither hath the time yet come for thee to 
follow me. Wait. My gospel must be made 
known to all men. My gospel is God's will. 
Men could not understand God, for he is in- 
visible. So I, who am one with God, became 
man, that ye might receive from me the mes- 
sage of God. And now, having known me 
as a man, ye shall for a few days know 
me as man shall be after death — ye shall 
for a few days know me, now^ seen, now 
unseen — that ye may believe that I am 
with you, though ye see me not. John, 
canst thou now answer thine own question, 
why thou didst not know that I was present 
yesterday ? " 

John answered, "Master" — then he fell 
upon his knees, and with bowed head, con- 



234 ™b vanishing of the prince. 

tinned : O, my Lord and my God, I did not 
understand. I did not know thee because of 
unbelief. This mortal heart — " 

Unknown to John, whose head is bowed, the 
Master has become invisible. 

This mortal heart is dull of understand- 
ing. I think I know more clearly now. Wilt 
thou forgive me, Lord?" 

John pauses, and seems to hear the Saviour's 
answer, though all is silence, for he adds : ''I 
thank thee for thy sweet words of pardon. 
I shall henceforth know that thou art ever 
with me." 

He arose and took his seat. He seems not 
to notice that the Saviour is invisible. 

Presently Peter whispered to him : The 
Master left us while thou wast speaking to 
him." 

John looked up and smiling answered : ''I 
did not notice that he had become invisible. 
Saidst thou he left^ Peter? Is he not yet 
here?" 

Yea," answered Peter, he is yet here." 
After a silence John asked : Were not 
those sweet words of pardon that he spake 
to me?" 



-A. 




B. Flockhiirsi . 

CHRIST THE CONSOLER. 



DEPARTING DOUBTS. 



Peter answered : ''I heard no words. He 
did not speak again after thou didst kneel." 

John looked perplexed for a moment. Then 
the triumphant smile returned and he replied : 
Ah, he spake to me. Behold then, Peter ; as 
he is here, though the mortal eye seeth him 
not, so also he speaketh to the soul, though 
the mortal ear heareth him not." 

Behold the triumph of faith ! And behold 
the misfortune of doubt ! It has been popular 
to doubt. Men have been accustomed to say- 
ing, " I have great respect for an honest 
doubter." Well, so be it, if you will. But I 
have great respect, and the greatest respect, 
for an honest believer. John or Thomas ? I 
choose John. Choose Thomas, if 3^ou will ; 
but I choose John. Of the two men John was 
the greater, the strongerj the more useful. We 
know but little of Thomas except his doubt. 
And whatever of good we know of him is good 
accomplished only when he ceased to doubt, 
and believed. The Saviour rebuked his dis- 
ciples for unbelief. Christ and the apostles 
clearly teach that unbelief is sin. And con- 
tinued unbelief results in eternal condemna- 
tion. If unbelief is sin, it must be overcome 



238 THE VANISHING OF THE PRINCE. 

by the grace of God. Unbelief is not to be 
reduced by reason, for the reason of the unbe- 
liever is not sound or he would believe. If 
the reason of the unbeliever is sound, then 
unbelief is right and faith is wrong. But the 
history of the whole world as well as the 
Bible proves that unbelief is the unfortu- 
nate, the unbalanced condition. Faith alone is 
normal. As the world goes, men doubt and 
boast of their doubt, while they are yet young, 
when they take pride in their wisdom, and 
during the smart " age. But as men grow 
older, they doubt less ; and if they doubt, they 
say less about it. The great, steady balance 
wheel of human thought and of human life 
is faith. 

The remedy for doubt is not reason, but 
testimony. Testimony is fact. Men who are 
inclined to doubt testimony must learn to 
distrust their reason. There is something 
wrong with the reason that doubts testimony. 
Thomas was not well balanced. To be sure, 
the facts to which the Marys and Salome and 
Peter and Cleopas and all the rest of them 
testified were stupendous ; but there was good 
evidence. Indeed they were entirely in line 
with all the great facts of Jewish history, and 



DEPARTING DOUBTS. 



tHey were exactly what Clirist had said would 
take place. The doubt of Thomas was absurd. 
It was also stubborn. He declared that he 
would not believe any evidence except that of 
his own sense. But if men will put them- 
selves in the way of evidence, they may have 
their own evidence, and thus may themselves 
become witnesses. Peter and John, I imagine, 
had a hard time keeping Thomas with them 
for a whole week of waiting ; but, having 
succeeded, the demonstration at last came to 
Thomas. It is useless to reason with doubt- 
ers. But, if you can hold them among the 
disciples who have seen the Lord, by and by 
these doubters will see him also. 

And when they see him, it will be their 
Lord that they see — their very own. Thomas 
cried out : My Lord and my God ! " 
Thomas would not believe the witness of the 
many who had seen the Lord ; but he could 
not longer doubt when the Lord appeared to 
his own eyes. Let evidence do no more for 
you than it did for Thomas, if so you will. 
But let it do so much. Let it constrain you 
to wait in the place where God has appeared 
to so many, and see if he will not appear to 
you. Not to your eye of flesh ; but no less 
13 



240 THE VANISHING OF THE PRINCE. 

surely does he appear to every soul that waits 
for him. He will appear to your satisfaction, 
and that is enough. You, too, shall cry out : 
''My Lord and my God." 

And when that time has come, you will 
know the meaning of the Master's words : 
" Blessed are they that have not seen, and yet 
have believed." The blessedness of belief is 
beyond compare. What has tormented you 
more than your doubts ? Belief is rest from 
torment. They are blessed who believe. Is 
it not so? Look once more upon this com- 
pany of disciples. Only yesterday they were 
despondent and some were weeping. Thomas 
was arrogant and disagreeable. Now all are 
happy. Thomas is conversing with Mary 
Magdalene about the appearance at the tomb. 
He has heard Mary's story before ; but now it 
has a new meaning to him. Even John and 
Peter had not believed that the Master was 
just as surely present when unseen as when 
seen ; and so they had been unhappy when 
they could not see him. But now they endure 
'' as seeing him who is invisible." They had 
not doubted, as had Thomas ; but now they 
had a larger faith. 



DEPARTING DOUBTS. 



241 



Yet these poor disciples are to be further 
tried. They will yet long to see the Lord 
with mortal eye. They will be tormented 
yet again with doubt. But watch these men 
and women. When the bright light is upon 
their faces, as now, you will always find that 
they believe that their Lord is present, though 
unseen. If you see them fearful and down- 
cast, with gloom upon their faces, it will be 
because the bright sun of faith is suffering 
eclipse by the dark cloud of unbelief. 

But we leave them happy now with the 
Lord's words of blessing still sounding in their 
ears, and conscious that, though he is not now 
visible, he is, nevertheless, present. And 
thus in silent benediction closed the second 
Lord's day. 



CHAPTER XII. 



DAWN ON TIBERIAS. 

It is probable that before the disciples sepa- 
rated on the evening of the second Lord's day 
they recalled the words of Jesus to the Marys : 
" Go tell my brethren that they depart into 
Galilee, and there shall they see me." There 
has already been considerable delay in obey- 
ing this command. But the delay has been 
necessary because of the unbelief of Thomas. 
It was desirable that the apostolic circle, so 
sadly broken already by the departure of 
Judas to his own place, should not be fur- 
ther broken by unbelief. Moreover these men 
were to be witnesses of the resurrection. It 
was necessary that they should see the Lord 
after his resurrection. 

It is very doubtful, also, if Thomas could 
have been induced to go far to meet the Lord 
until he had some strong evidence that the 
Lord was risen. Perhaps this journey into 
Galilee might have been made a week earlier, 
if Thomas had not been absent that first Lord's 



[242] 



DAWN ON TIBERIAS. 



243 



day evening. Doubting Thomas, by bis lack 
of faitb, is always holding back the Lord's 
work. This lack of faith is often caused, as 
in the case of Thomas, by absence when God 
meets his assembled people. But perhaps the 
others also needed the added help of this 
second appearance of the Master. Now, at 
any rate, they are ready to go to Galilee. 

These were trying days for the disciples. 
The great feast had made the city more than 
usually uproarous ; and the quiet of the Gali- 
lean hills, overlooking the beautiful city of 
Galilee, had been often in their thoughts. It 
was with joyful hearts that these Galilean 
fishermen now prepared to depart for their 
own loved country. Back to Galilee ! Back 
to Galilee ! " they say over and over to them- 
selves, as they wait eagerly for the dawn of 
Monday morning. 

They were early on their way. As they 
passed up the valley and out at the Damascus 
gate, over the very way that the Nazarene 
had gone fainting under his cross, their minds 
were no doubt recalled vividly to the awful 
scenes of the crucifixion. Just yonder, at 
the right, is Golgotha; and near by is the 
tomb of Joseph of Arimathea, the scene of 



244 THE VANISHING OF THE PRINCE. 



the resurrection. And now tHey are on their 
way to the beloved homes in Galilee, there to 
meet the risen Master. The same disciples 
are here who w^alked together toward Em- 
mans wdth their heads upon their breasts. 
But this morning they hear the bird songs. 
To-day they heed the fragrance in the air. 
They see the beauty of the morning sunlight 
on the hills. A few days ago, walking in 
sadness, and conversing in doleful tones, 
these men personified doubt. Now, walk- 
ing with uplifted head and every sense keen 
to discern the beautiful and good, they per- 
sonify faith. 

These men were used to travel on foot, 
and it is probable that their good spirits 
prompted them to a steady pace. About 
noon they reached Bethel, the place where 
Jacob saw the vision of angels ascending and 
descending upon the ladder of his dream. 
Perhaps they stopped here for a time to re- 
fresh themselves for the further journey of 
the afternoon, and to wait until the excessive 
heat of noon had moderated with the declin- 
ing day. But they would push on toward the 
mountains of Ephraim by mid-afternoon, and 
spend the night at Gilgal. This would be 



DAWN ON TIBERIAS. 



a most interesting place to spend the night, 
for here the children of Israel spent their first 
night in the promised land. Here they set 
up for a pillar the twelve stones which they 
had taken up in crossing the Jordan. And 
here they kept their first Passover in the 
promised land. Coming just now from this 
Passover, the most memorable in all Israel's 
history, no doubt these men remembered 
these facts of Israel's early history. 

Refreshed by the rest of the night, at early 
morning they continued toward the distant 
mountains of Gerizim and Ebal. Soon after 
noon they arrived at Jacob's well near Sy- 
char. Here, sitting on the well, they speak 
of the time when they left Jesus sitting there 
while they went into the village to buy food. 
Again they go over the wonderful scene re- 
sulting from his talk with the woman. Over 
them hang the historic mountains of Ebal 
and Gerizim. 

Between these two mountains, after having 
refreshed themselves, the disciples followed 
their course toward Samaria. As they pass 
through the narrow valley, Ebal, barren and 
forbidding, rises upon , the north, the moun- 
tain of cursing. And Gerizim, covered with 



246 THE VANISHING OE THE PRINCE. 



verdure, Higher than Ebal, stands warm and 
beautiful in the afternoon sun, the mountain 
of blessing. As they pass along, they con- 
verse of the time when Moses caused six of 
the heads of tribes to stand upon one moun- 
tain and six of the heads of tribes to stand 
upon the other mountain while the children 
of Israel, just arrived from their wandering, 
assembled in the valley, listened to the alter- 
nate reading of the blessings and of the curs- 
ings of the law, and gave their responses to 
the echoes of barren Ebal's rocks and of 
warm Gerizim's sunny woods. 

At evening, they reached the city of Sa- 
maria, lying cozily in the hollow of the moun- 
tainside ; and there, perhaps, they spent the 
second night of their journey. 

With early morning again they were on 
their way, stopping perhaps by the Sahel Ar- 
rabeh at noon to rest. In the mid-afternoon 
they reached the borders of the plain of 
Esdraelon. From the hills upon which they 
stand the plain stretches away to the north, 
and in the northwest to the Mediterranean. 
Here and there villages dot the plain, and 
the city of Jezreel is prominent on its rise of 
ground, commanding a view of the country to 



DAWN ON TIBERIAS. 



247 



the Jordan on tHe east, and of the plain far 
down tlie basin of the Kishon to the west. 
But the disciples did not tarry long to look, 
for they hoped to reach Jezreel by nightfall, 
and it will tax their strength for the remain- 
der of the afternoon to do so. 

After the night in Jezreel they continued 
their way toward Nazareth. About mid-after- 
noon they came opposite the village of Nain, 
which lies to the right of them, a little off 
from the Roman road that they are following. 
They do not turn aside to it ; but recall the 
raising from the dead of the widow's son, 
and walk on, talking of the resurrection, with 
the new intelligence furnished by the Mas- 
ter's resurrection. At noon they reached 
Nazareth. It is now but a short day's jour- 
ney to Capernaum on the sea ; and the sacred 
associations of the Master's native city detain 
them for the night. They have a faint hope 
that they may see the Master himself here. 
But we have no record that he met them here. 

On the morning of the fifth day out from 
Jerusalem they hastened to complete their 
journey. Passing through Gana where Jesus 
performed his first miracle, they came to Ca- 
pernaum before nightfall. 



248 THE VANISHING OF THE PRINCE. 



We can easily imagine the reception that 
the friends at Capernaum gave to the returned 
apostles. We hear the innumerable questions 
and the answers given. We can see the 
amazement of the listeners as the story of 
the resurrection and of the various appear- 
ances of the Master are recounted. One 
by one the disciples gather from far and near 
to hear the testimony of these eye-witnesses, 
and to receive instruction as to the meeting 
upon the mountain of Galilee where Jesus 
promised to see them. 

Meanwhile, one evening, several of the dis- 
ciples are together. Here are Peter and 
Thomas, Nathanael of Cana, James and John, 
and two others — seven in all. They have 
been waiting in suspense, not knowing ex- 
actly what to do now that they have returned. 
The Master has not been seen again, and no 
one can tell when he will appear to them. 
Perhaps the shadow of the old doubt has been 
felt stealing over them. Silence has fallen 
upon the group. 

Suddenly Peter rises up, confidently, and 
by his manner seems to say : "I will not sit 
here, the pre}^ of anxiety. The Master will 



DAWN ON TIBERIAS. 



meet us when all is ready." He actually does 
say : I go a fishing." 

The whole company responds : " We also 
go with thee." 

This was a very wise suggestion. It might 
be days yet before the Master would become 
visible and give them instructions. Mean- 
while they must provide for themselves ; and 
they must not allow idleness to court doubt. 
So they rise up, and in good heart hasten 
to the lake shore. They rig their neglected 
boats, and push off in the early evening for a 
night of fishing. They visit the old fishing 
grounds, where they have so often had great 
success ; but they do not catch any fish. So 
the hours pass, and the good spirit in which 
they set out begins to flag. Have they for- 
gotten their one-time skill ? They begin to 
recount their adventures on this little sea of 
Tiberias. They remember the many times 
when the Master was with them. They recall 
that stormy night when he was asleep, and 
the boat began to sink. How with a word he 
calmed the sea ! They recall his rebuke of 
their fear and unbelief. They recall the time 
when he came to them walking on the sea. 



252 THE VANISHING OF THE PRINCE. 



Thomas, with that human instinct to soothe 
one's self by comparison with another, no 
better or a little worse, says slyly to Peter • 
" Simon, dost remember thy walk upon the 
water?" 

Simon makes some inarticulate sound in 
his throat, and does not answer. 

I tell thee, Simon," adds Thomas, un- 
belief hath nearly been the end of thee 
and me." 

^' Yea," replies Peter, seeing that Thomas 
is not making sport of him, yea, Thomas, 
we have been slow to believe our Master. , 
Fear hath often silenced faith." 

So fishing and conversing quietly, or row- 
ing from one fishing ground to another, the 
night wanes and still they have not caught 
anything. The dead silence that precedes 
the early dawn is over all the lake and on the 
distant shore. The dip of the oars sounds 
loud in the silence. The fall of a boat-hook 
echoes over the water, and back from the Ca- 
pernaum hills. Over the border bluffs on the 
opposite side of the lake the sky presents the 
first faint signs of morning. They have given 
up the hope of catching anything now, and 
are nearing the shore not far from the city. 



DAWN ON TIBERIAS. 253 



They move slowly, being in no haste, and all 
have become silent. 

John is deep in his own sweet thoughts. 
He is enjoying the presence of the Master. 

They are all a little startled to hear a voice 
calling from the shore : " Children, have ye 
aught to eat ? " 

They answer, " No." 

The voice calls again : Cast the net on 
the right side of the boat, and ye shall find." 

" It is no use," says Thomas. 

" Nay, cast," replies John with a peculiar 
smile. 

They cast, and immediately enclose a great 
multitude of fishes. 

H'm," says Thomas, struggling at the 

net. 

Peter stands straight up and looks at 
John. John nods assent at his unspoken 
question, and answers aloud, "It is the 
Lord." 

Peter girds his fisherman's garment about 
him, and, careless of fish, net, boat, and breth- 
ren, he casts himself into the sea, swimming 
to meet his Lord. The others come more 
slowly, dragging the net. Simon meets them 
and assists in landing it. Now they observe 



254 I'HE VANISHING OF THE PRINCE. 



a fire of coals ; and fish and bread. With 
many a furtive glance at the majestic form 
waiting beside the fire of coals, they complete 
their task. 

Jesus then says to them : Come and break 
your fast." Then in his usual manner he 
breaks to them the bread and fish. 

After the repast is over they still recline 
upon the white sand of the beach waiting for 
the Master to break the silence that is grow- 
ing heavy. The sun behind the eastern hills 
that separate the little lake from the great 
wastes beyond, is painting the clouds with 
crimson and outlining the boundary hills in 
gold. The early birds are astir in the neigh- 
boring hills and in the reeds that fringe 
the lake. All is silent in the little group, 
they do not even notice these signs of morn- 
ing. In the visible presence of the Master 
each one is thinking of the unworthy part 
that he has played in the tragedy of the past 
few weeks. Peter, especially, is thinking of 
the shameful way in which he denied the 
Lord during the trial. He is thinking of 
the confidence with which at the supper he 
had declared to the Master : " Although all 
shall be offended, yet will not I.'' He re- 



DAWN ON TIBERIAS. 



members the Master's answer : " Before the 
cock crow, thou shalt deny me thrice." He 
remembers how these words were fulfilled. 
As he sits in the early morning, bent upon 
his own thoughts, his whole body flushes 
under the memory of his shameful act. He 
remembers it all. The eyes of the Master 
are now bent upon him, as he sits thinking. 
Peter feels uneasy under their gaze, though 
unconscious of the fact that Jesus is looking 
at him. In his review he has come to the 
third denial, made with oaths; and now — 
suddenly, from a neighboring fisherman's 
hut, sounds the shrill crowing of a cock. 
Peter starts and looks quickly toward Jesus. 
He meets that full gaze and knows that the 
Master has been following his thoughts. 
Peter remembers that he has always been 
loudest in his profession of love, and now he 
sees that not one has failed more miserably 
than he. He seems to have professed a 
greater love than these others. Even this 
morning he left them all in the boat while 
he swam ashore. This also seemed a profes- 
sion of a love greater than that of the others. 

Peter is sure that the Master is about to 
address him. He longs to hear the Master's 



256 THE VANISHING OF THE PRINCE. 



voice, yet he dreads the words that may be 
spoken. 

At last — it has seemed an age to Peter — 
the Master speaks. " Simon, son of John, 
esteemest thou me more highly than do 
these ? 

Peter thinks rapidly : " It is just as I 
feared. I have professed more than the rest, 
and have done less. What is this the Master 
says, ' Esteemest thou me ' ! I do more than 
esteem my Lord, I love him." 

Then he answers aloud : Yea, Lord ; thou 
knowest that I love thee." 

The reply is an earnest protest against the 
word that Jesus uses in asking the question. 
A word signifying a very great esteem ; but 
that fails to express that nearer relation in 
which the affections as well as the mind are 
involved. Peter's answer shows that his ear- 
nest protestation of a deep affection for his 
Master is not made with his former assurance. 
He does not say anything about loving more 
than the others. That part of the Master's 
question Peter leaves unanswered by words. 
He leaves the answer to that to be inferred 
from his humility. And his answer is as 
much an appeal to the Master as an assertion 



DAWN ON TIBERIAS. 



of affection. Lord, thou knowest." He will 
hardly venture to make the assertion, fearing 
that he may seem to be yet boastful. He is 
sincere in his love, and he knows it. He will 
not seem to boast ; but will simply appeal to 
his Master's knowledge, and so earnestly 
assert his deep love. 

The answer is good. The Master approves 
it, as is evident from the reply : Feed my 
lambs." 

And yet Peter must be further humbled. 
That bold spirit of his will be his greatest foe 
unless it be thoroughly under his control. 
The Master desires to make a lasting impres- 
sion upon this valuable servant's mind. He 
asks him the very same question a second 
time. Peter cannot do better than to give his 
same answer again. He would make louder 
protestation of his love, but he is afraid. He 
feels that the Master is trying the strength of 
his humility. Peter will not be surprised into 
undue boldness now. 

"More than these?" thinks Peter. "I 
have evidence that some of these love him 
as well, perhaps better than I." 

He answers as before with unsteady voice, 
"Yea, Lord; thou knowest that I love thee." 
14 



258 THE VANISHING OF THE PRINCE. 

Again the Master commends him by com- 
missioning him: ''Feed my sheep." 

But had not Peter thrice denied? Again, 
therefore, the Saviour repeats his question ; 
but this time he changes one word, and this 
change saves Peter from complete overthrow 
in his shame. 

The Master substitutes for his word, '' Es- 
teemest thou me highly," the word of Peter's 
choice in his answers, and asks : '' Simon, son 
of John, lovest thou me?" 

Peter is grieved, and yet he catches the 
word of his choice. The Saviour has recog- 
nized his claim ; and the voice in which the 
question is now asked has softened to corre- 
spond to this more tender word. 

So Peter commands himself and answers : 
Lord, thou knowest all things ; thou know- 
est that I love thee." 

There is a moment of silence, and when it 
is broken, all remember that moment of si- 
lence as the clear setting of a shrill crowing 
of a cock in the neighboring fisherman's hut. 

Then once more the Master commends 
Peter by commissioning him : '' Feed my 
sheep." 



DAWN ON TIBERIAS. 



Then the Master honors him by telling him 
how much he shall suffer for his Lord's sake. 

Verily, verily, I say unto thee, When thou 
wast young, thou girdedst thyself, and walk- 
edst whither thou wouldest : but when thou 
shalt be old, thou shalt stretch forth thy 
hands, and another shall gird thee, and carry 
thee whither thou wouldest not." 

The sun has now risen above the eastern 
border hills, and has flooded all Tiberias with 
golden glory. The little waves are dancing 
in the light of morning. It is a scene of 
beauty. The souls of the disciples, calmed 
and refreshed, are peaceful as this morning 
scene. Their eyes wander off upon the lake, 
so loved because of long familiarity ; and, 
more especially, because of the sacred asso- 
ciations of the Master there. 

Presently the Master rises from the ground, 
saying to Peter : Follow me." 

The seven arise and follow him toward 
Capernaum. Eight men in all pass slowly 
down the beach toward the city. 

But Peter does not recognize, in this com- 
mission to work and to suffer, how great is 
the honor placed upon him. He is chafing 



26o THE VANISHING OF THE PRINCE. 



under the thrice-repeated question. It has 
been suggestive of his deniah The rebuke 
before his brethren hurts him sorel}^ In this 
commission to feed the Master's sheep he sees 
only condemnation to severe toiL He fails 
to understand that the blaster has especially 
honored him in giving him the hardest work 
to do for him. 

Then, what is this about another's girding 
him, and leading him against his will ? Here 
is suffering. Certainly Peter feels that he 
has done ver}^ wrong ; but if the Saviour 
knows his heart, is not his repentance sin- 
cere ? ]\Iust he be condemned to this hard 
work and to this great suffering ? Poor 
Peter ! He has not 3^et learned that in this 
commission to feed Christ's sheep and in 
the suffering entailed, there lies the highest 
honor and the supremest joy. 

And so it is to-da3\ Lien think of the 
Lord's work as a burden to be borne, a cross 
to be carried. But the highest honor of earth 
or of heaven is to be under commission of the 
Lord Jesus Christ. 

Peter is jealous of John. He looks over his 
shoulder at John, who is following, and asks : 
''Lord, and what shall this man do?" 



DAWN ON TIBERIAS. 



263 



The Saviour answers : ^' If I will that he 
tarry till I come, what is that to thee ? follow 
thou me." 

And now Peter is silent. Failing to recog- 
nize the fact that the Master has honored him 
above the others by giving him a supreme 
place in work and in suffering, he is jealous 
of John, who has not been honored ; and 
brings upon himself an added rebuke. 

But Peter, we may well believe from his 
subsequent history, soon had his eyes opened 
to the honor that the Master had bestowed 
upon him. And when his spirit had ceased 
to chafe under this severe rebuke, he remem- 
bered that the Saviour had proportioned his 
commission to work for him, to his love. He 
saw that he was to work in proportion as 
he loved. 

. " Ivovest thou me ? " 

" Yea, Lord." 
Feed my sheep." 

If thou lovest me, work for me. If thou 
lovest me, suffer for me. This had been his 
commission. This is love's commission ever. 
We labor and suffer for any one in proportion 
to our love. In regard to our love for Jesus 
Christ is this especially true. The commission 



264 THE VANISHING OF THE PRINCE. 

to labor and to suffer in the Lord's work is 
distinctly a commission of love. 

But there was a further lesson, and a les- 
son for all of them, in the Saviour's words : 
What is that to thee ? follow thou me." 
These men had been together. They had 
learned and had traveled in compan3\ Now 
they must be separated. Each must fulfil his 
mission, without regard to what the others 
might do or fail to do. If John was to sit 
idl}^ and wait until the blaster came again, 
that was nothing to Peter. He had his com- 
mission. This was not the plan the Master 
had for John, however. All that he teaches 
Peter here is that each man should do his 
appointed work, even if every other man 
should come short or fail in doing his work. 

Were there not eight men walking toward 
Capernaum ? • There were eight. I can count 
but seven now — eight? No, seven. Eight ; 
for one, in their midst, unseen, still walks 
with them. 



CHAPTER XIII. 



ON THE MOUNTAIN IN GALILEE. 

" But the eleven disciples went into Galilee, 
unto tlie mountain where Jesus had appointed 
them." This mountain was no doubt a well- 
known place of resort for the Lord and his 
disciples. It was probably not far from Ca- 
pernaum. The exact place will probably 
never be known. There are, however, good 
reasons for presuming that this was some one 
of those beautiful hills near the sea, to which 
Jesus was accustomed to resort, both in com- 
pany with his disciples, to teach, and alone, 
to pray. Very likely this was the mountain 
of beatitudes, upon the descent of which there 
was a level place where the multitudes could 
stand or recline while Jesus spoke those won- 
derful words of awakening from dead formal- 
ism to spiritual worship. Perhaps the very 
same mountain upon whose grassy sides he 
fed the multitude, and to whose summit 
he then went up alone to pray, while the 
people sought their homes. From this place 

[265] 



266 THE VANISHING OF l^H!^ PRlNCH. 



could be seen the tiny, tempestuous Tiberias. 
From tbis place, in tbe dead of nigbt, tbe 
Master saw bis disciples, drencbed and driven 
in tbe waves. Perbaps be saw tbem witb tbe 
vision of deity, as be soon witb tbe footsteps 
of deity walked upon tbe waves to rescue 
tbem. Perbaps tbis w^as tbe very mountain 
upon wbose summit Peter desired to build 
tbree tabernacles, one for Moses, one for 
Elias, and one for tbe Master. However 
tbis may be, tbe mountain is called the moun- 
tain, as if it were well known. It was prob- 
ably a spot as often frequented, and as mucb 
loved, as tbe garden on Olivet, to wbicb Cbrist 
in tbe later days of bis life on eartb so often 
resorted witb bis disciples. 

After tbat beautiful dawn on Tiberias, 
wben tbe Master met tbem, tbe seven no 
doubt understood more fully tbeir future 
course. Tbe Master told tbem wben and 
wbere to meet bim. Tbe seven walked on to 
Capernaum ; and soon all tbe bretbren knew 
tbat tbe Master was really in Galilee, for be 
bad appeared to Peter, James, Jobn, Tbomas, 
and otbers by tbe seasbore, as tbey returned 
from a nigbt of fisbing. In a sbort time 
tbe news bad spread from Capernaum 



ON THE MOUNTAIN IN GALILEE. 269 



throughout the country side into the neigh- 
boring villages. 

Early upon the appointed day the eleven 
assembled at the appointed place of meeting. 
They recline upon the grass, refreshing them- 
selves with food and drink. Here are all 
the eleven ; Simon Peter, already recognized 
by common consent, and without particular 
thought on the part of any, as their leader. 
Andrew, Peter's brother, is here. It was 
through his means that Peter was first 
brought to Jesus. There is John, with his 
beautiful, meditative face, mobile and gentle 
as a woman's, yet strong in all those outlines 
that denote a lofty purpose and a noble char- 
acter ; and near him is his brother James, 
honored highly a few years later by being the 
first martyr for the cause of his Master. Near 
by is Philip, the first to whom the words, 
" Follow me," were spoken. Philip, when he 
was called, immediately found Nathanael, and 
they are often mentioned together. This Na- 
thanael is very likely the apostle known as 
Bartholomew, who now reclines by the side 
of Philip. Next is our doubting Thomas, 
with his doubt gone and the bright light 
of faith shining on his face. Near him is 



270 'THE VANISHING OF THE PRINCE. 



MattheWj who left his seat at the receipt of 
custom to follow Jesus, and who has left us 
the Gospel bearing his name. By his side is 
James, the son of Alpheus. James was a 
cousin of the Lord. He afterward was made 
the chief minister of the church at Jerusalem. 
Next comes Thaddeus, also called Lebbeus, 
and Judas. Near him is Simon, the Cana- 
nsean or the zealot. And here the circle is 
broken by the vacant place once filled by 
Judas Iscariot. 

These eleven honored men deserve our 
highest esteem and our fervent love. They 
were but men, and often failed, as men are 
ever failing, to understand their noble calling 
or perfectly to fulfil their mission. We have 
no doubt wondered at their short-sightedness 
and at their failure to believe all that Jesus 
had spoken ; but if we can, for a moment, put 
ourselves in their places on this mountain- 
side, we shall judge them with greater justice. 
For what have they come to this mountain ? 
To meet one who has been a man among 
them for three years, a man in many respects 
like themselves, yet ever manifesting a super- 
natural power that has kept them in a state 
of perpetual amazement. Many a time these 



ON THE MOUNTAIN IN GALILEE. 27 1 

men have been afraid. The marvelous power, 
the marvelous teaching ; more than all, the 
marvelous being of this man, have been often 
to these men the appearance to the earth-bom 
of the unearthly. No wonder that when they 
saw him walking on the water their natural 
fear of disembodied spirits should cause them 
to cry out. 

Perhaps some men may justly claim that 
they are not afraid of spirits. But if such 
men should really see some strange apparition, 
they would be surprised to find how weak a 
support their philosophy becomes ; and how 
little the boasts of calmer moments suffice to 
quiet a wildly beating heart or to strengthen 
the shaking knees. If you choose not to call 
it fear, call it by the name of awe. By what- 
ever name the sensations of a man who sup- 
poses himself in the presence of a departed 
spirit may be called, it remains a fact that he 
feels much as did Job, when, in thoughts 
from the visions of the night, when deep sleep 
falleth on men," a spirit passed before his 
face, and he heard a voice. Job confesses : 
^' Fear came upon me, and trembling, which 
made all my bones to shake." The hair of 
my flesh stood up." Nor does the fact that 



272 THE VANISHING OF THE PRINCE. 



He whom they expect here to meet, in his 
spiritual body, is their own beloved Master, 
materially alter the case. The awe, the fright 
of seeing the spirits of our departed friends, 
is no less than is that of seeing some unknown 
spirit. Indeed the fact that the spirit is rec- 
ognized makes the awe the more profound. 

These men who recline at their repast upon 
the mountain here, have all these human 
dreads. Nevertheless they have come here 
to meet one from the spirit world. When 
they see him he has the appearance of a man, 
the man whom they have known and loved, 
whom they had seen certainly and cruelly 
put to death. They have met him before. 
They desire to meet him now. But as these 
men were yet mortal, with all a mortal man^s 
dread of death and of disembodied spirits, so 
there must have mingled, in these days of 
suspense and of waiting, an awe of spirit that 
must have been a terrible strain upon their 
nervous force. These men were lacking in 
faith. We wonder how they could doubt such 
evidence. But we are nineteen centuries re- 
moved from those quiet appearings and dis- 
appearings, each one more awful than ordinary 
death, and we can view these things in history 



ON THE MOUNTAIN IN GALILEE. 273 



and believe in them and learn to worship God 
as a spirit without the awakening of those 
awful sensations which would have come to 
every one of us, were we to have seen what 
these apostles saw. Few men could have 
stood the excessive nervous strain to which 
these men were subjected, without breaking 
under it and becoming insane. From this 
point of view the wonder is not that they were 
weak in faith, but that they believed at all. 

Some have supposed that the five hundred 
brethren, mentioned by Paul in First Cor- 
inthians, fifteenth chapter, and sixth verse, 
who met the Lord at one time, were here 
upon the mountainside with the eleven. 
This is probable. But the Gospels mention 
only the eleven. If the five hundred are 
here they have now settled into their places 
to await the appearance of the Lord. 

The day is advancing. Expectancy grows 
hourly — yes, now momently — greater and 
greater. The apostles alone appear perfectly 
calm. But we can see an unwonted kindling 
of their eyes, expressive of a suppressed ex- 
citement that is beginning to send the blood 
more rapidly through all their veins. Their 
food ceases to be palatable. It soon becomes 



274 'I'HE VANISHING OF THE PRINCE. 

disgusting, and pushing it from them, they 
recline upon the green grass, with an external 
composure wholly out of harmony with the 
inward excitement that possesses them. 

Still they are waiting, eager, expectant, half 
afraid. As we have imagined this circle, 
Simon Peter was at one side of the vacant 
place of Judas Iscariot, and Simon, the zealot, 
was on the other side. Occasionally Simon, 
the zealot, the lowest in rank of the apostles, 
has been asking Simon Peter when he thinks 
the Master will appear to them. 

After an unusually long silence the zealot 
asks Simon Peter again: "Peter, did the 
Master say at what hour of the day he would 
appear? " 

Simon Peter hears the question of the zealot ; 
but the voice comes from the man beyond him 
who sits by his side, where the zealot was. 
Some one is reclining in Judas Iscariot's va- 
cant place ! Peter looks up, and raising him- 
self, looks squarely at the intruder. Meantime 
the zealot, receiving no answer, also looks up 
and sees the man in the 'Scariot's place. It 
is the Lord. The sudden movement of these 
two brethren calls the attention of all the 
twelve to the Master, who now rises to his 



ON THE MOUNTAIN IN GALILEE. 275 

feet. And the eleven kneeling about him, 
worship him. " But some doubted." Who 
these doubters were, we do not know. Whether 
Thomas was again overcome by his skeptical 
nature, or whether some of those who were 
not present at the sea when he met the seven 
there, were doubtful about his having really 
yet come up from Jerusalem, or whether his 
glorified body, so familiar and yet so different, 
appearing and disappearing so mysteriously, 
required, each time it was seen, a new stretch 
of faith to recognize, we do not know. But 
some doubted." If the five hundred brethren 
were here, no doubt some of them doubted ; but 
the gospel narrative makes it necessary for us 
to attribute these doubts to some of the eleven. 

Some of these men, who had already seen 
him since his resurrection, found themselves 
in the attitude of worship, staring vacantly at 
the Lord, suffering from fear and unbelief. 
And the Master upbraids them because they 
do not believe. He refers these doubting 
ones to those who have seen him oftener. He 
appeals to their own senses, and rebukes 
them for hardness of heart. Evidently they 
might believe, and their unbelief is due to 
the natural apostasy of their hearts. 



276 THE VANISHING OF THE PRINCE. 

And this is ever true. There is no sin 
more grievous than the sin of unbelief. Un- 
belief is not merely a misfortune, it is sin. 
It is a positive sign of the apostasy of the 
human heart from God. If men were in nor- 
mal relations to God, there would be no doubt. 
But men take their affairs into their own 
hands, and think themselves sufficient for 
the struggles of life. Unbelief has its root 
in pride of intellect. The unbeliever is in- 
clined to think that he has reasoning powers 
of more than ordinary strength ; and he is 
proud of these powers. To admit that they 
are not sufficient to solve the problems of life 
and of death and of the future, is too great 
a humiliation for such an one. Unbelief does 
not have its roots in godliness ; but its roots 
pierce deep into the sub-stratum of human 
selfishness. 

Men say, I cannot believe." That may 
be true, in the same sense in which it may be 
true that a drunkard cannot leave his cups. 
But by the grace of God, a drunkard can 
leave his cups ; and by the grace of God a 
man can believe. It is true that the human 
will has been weakened by sin, so that, of 
themselves, men cannot do the things that 



ON THE MOUNTAIN IN GALILEE. 277 

they would like to do. But Christ died to 
give men this very power that sin has des- 
troyed. By the grace of God men can 
believe. But, some one asks, " How can the 
grace of God benefit me, if I do not believe 
in it?" I can only reply that all men are 
doomed to remain estranged from God, until 
God calls. When God calls, it is an appeal 
to the soul, to which, in some degree, the soul 
has power to respond. This response is faith 
— much or little — enough to make it pos- 
sible to pray : ^' Lord, Increase our faith." 
Without this call man cannot believe. 

And failure to respond to this call, in so far 
as one has power, is to stultify such powers 
of faith as one may have. All men at some- 
time are called. That is, at some period in 
the life of every human soul, an appeal is 
made to it to which it might respond. This 
appeal is usually made first in early child- 
hood. It may be oft repeated until death. It 
may never be repeated. This appeal is the 
golden opportunity in which the soul has 
power to believe and to be saved. This op- 
portunity refused, the soul is lost until 
another appeal comes. If no other appeal 
comes, the soul is lost forever. And some- 
15 



278 THE VANISHING OF THE PRINCE. 

time it will become conscious of the fact that 
it is lost by its own fault. 

Unbelief is sin, and sometime every soul 
will see that unbelief is sin. 

Jesus proceeds, after upbraiding them for 
their unbelief, to declare to them his omnipo- 
tence. ''AH power is given unto me in 
heaven and in earth," he said. They look 
at him in amazement. Why then was he 
crucified ! Why then does he not even now 
take the throne of his father David ! 

God does not wait because he is powerless ; 
but because he is merciful. ''AH power is 
given unto me in heaven and in earth." 
These words sounded strangely in the ears 
of the apostles. But as their faith grew, they 
sounded as the clarion blast of victory. As 
these faithful men scattered, a few months 
later, to the various countries where they 
preached, these words were ever their in- 
spiration. 

Then the Master spoke the words that in- 
augurated the work of evangelizing the world. 
Before him knelt those poor, frightened, awe- 
stricken men. To them he spoke words 
which from that time to this have been the 
war cry of the advancing Christian host: " Go 



ON THE MOUNTAIN IN GALILEE. 279 

ye into all the world." Go back to your fish- 
ing, and be thankful for what I have done for 
you? Be glad that you have learned the 
song of salvation ? Nay, verily ! This would 
have been to put the seal of oblivion upon the 
work that the Master came to do for men. 
No, no I But, ^'Go ye into all the world." 
This was his command. And, as ye go, 
gather strength. Ye are eleven. Gather all 
who now believe on me, and unite them, and 
go. Go, all of you. And, as ye go, Preach 
the gospel to every creature." Go with your 
banner of the gospel flying in the wind. Go 
with your voices upraised to proclaim the 
story of the Saviour's love and sacrifice and 
power. Pass no man by. Let those who 
dwell in the marble palaces hear your voices. 
Let those who throng the wayside from the 
fields of husbandry and from the shops of 
industry hear the calling of your upraised 
voices. Let those who lie besotted in the 
dens of infamy hear your pleading call — be 
moved by the pathos of thy Master's love. 
Let those who shout against each other in 
the din of heathen war, hear, above the clang- 
ing of their hideous instruments of death, 
your call to peace and rest in Jesus Christ. 



28o THE VANISHING OF THE PRINCE. 



Let the fires in Molocli's altars be blown out 
by the gospel story breathing from your lips. 
Let the car of Juggernaut cease the creaking 
of its wheels of death because you stand in its 
path holding high the ensign of all power in 
Heaven and on earth — the cross of Calvary. 

Preach , arouse, evangelize ! But not that 
alone. ^' Teaching them to observe all things 
whatsoever I have commanded you." ■ ^ My 
gospel is not alone to arouse men, but it is to 
form the basis of life. You must not neglect 
to supplement the preaching by the teaching. 
When men flock in response to the preaching, 
be sure to give them continuous instruction 
in my doctrine, that they may abide and grow 
strong." 

Preach, teach, and then baptize. Let 
those who hear and are moved and who stay 
to receive all the teaching that I have given 
you — let them be baptized into your ranks 
and become identified with you in your work 
of carrying my message to every brother 
man." 

Then the Lord gave them that awful 
double promise. The positive and the nega- 
tive of faith. He that believeth and is bap- 



ON 'THE MOUNl'AIN IN GALILEE. 28 1 



tized shall be saved; but lie that believetb 
not shall be damned.'^ In this conquest of 
the world there is only one test. That is the 
test of loyalty. Are you for the King of 
Kings, or are you against him ? If you are 
not for him, you are against him. Do you 
believe ? That is, have you forsaken all for 
Jesus ? Then you are saved. But have you 
neglected or refused? Then you are lost. The 
war is raging. The end is coming. You are 
on one side or the other. Possibly only a 
camp follower of the Lord's army. Well, 
come on, you are following the right camp. 
Possibly only a camp follower of the enemy. 
Ah ! When the final victory comes, there 
will be no quarter, even to camp followers. 
This whole gospel age is quarter shown, and 
you will not accept it? not even when it is 
urged upon you, not even when the King of 
the successful army has sacrificed his only 
Son to make it possible and safe to show you 
quarter? There cometh the day of wrath. 
Tell them all plainly, Peter. Tell them 
lovingly, John, and all the rest of you. Tell 
them that, He that believeth and is bap- 
tized shall be saved; but he that believeth 
not shall be damned.'' 



282 THE VANISHING OF THE PRINCE. 



Then the Master gave them such authority 
and power over nature, over disease, and over 
evil, as would enable them to work their way 
and to prove their authority. 

He pauses. The disciples are beginning 
to see more clearly the meaning of their Mas- 
ter's life and death. The commission that 
he has now given them is far, far reaching. 
Indeed, with glowing eyes and with throbbing 
hearts, these men begin at last to see that 
the kingdom of their Lord is not Jewish, but 
world-wide. Not to serve one nation, but to 
serve every nation, did he come. This is not 
to receive a corruptible crown ; but it is to 
make every one a king and a priest to God. 
What a conception ! What subduing of am- 
bition by the magic touch of love ! 

See these men, trembling with a new sense 
of their Master's power and purpose, as again 
they kneel at his feet to worship him as God. 
But we hear no words. Their worship is the 
silent worship of the heart, such worship as 
can never find expression on the stammering 
mortal tongue. 

Then there burns into their souls that 
glowing promise, a promise that the last few 
days of marvelous appearings and disappear- 



ON THE MOUNTAIN IN GALILEE. 283 

ings have made somewhat intelligible; that 
promise, begun by lips that moved before 
their eyes in articulate human speech — fin- 
ished by lips unseen ; that promise of the 
age-long unseen presence of the Lord : Lo, 
I am with you alway, even unto the end 
of the world." 



CHAPTER XIV. 



OLIVET ONCE MORE. 

Farewell to Galilee. Peter, Andrew, James, 
John, Philip, trim your boat for one more 
sail up Tiberias to your native Bethsaida, 
near where the waters of the upper Jordan 
broaden into the inland sea. Lift your eyes 
once more to the north, and let them rest 
on the white dome of Hermon, where the 
sacred Jordan has its sources in perpetual 
snows — to the white dome of Hermon whose 
stately grandeur has often inspired your 
souls with noble emotion. Look away once 
more to the north, up El Buka'a, the natural 
highway between the parallel ranges of the 
Lebanons to the " Entering in of Hamoth." 
See where the mountains of Lebanon reach 
the end of their range, in the ancient Leontes, 
sweeping their base. Climb once more the 
native hills where you used to run in 
the boyhood days, and look once more over 
the rugged country toward the sweet smiling 
Mediterranean. Take your fill now of the 
[284] 



OLIVET ONCE MORE. 285 



scenes of your cliildliood ; the scenes of ma- 
turer years as well ; for no more, alas, shall 
your feet be free or your hands unbound ; 
for you are under the constraint of a mighty 
love, and love's great commission hath sent 
you forth, no more to tread the well-known 
mountain paths of Galilee, no more to fish 
in the pure waters of Gennesaret ; but to tread 
the burning sands of unknown wastes, and 
to climb the rugged steep of hills that lift 
their brows in unknown climes. 

But stay, men ! After all, ye need not go. 
Love the Master here among your native 
hills and on your native waters. Tell of his 
love here : some in Galilee have not yet 
learned to love him. Stay here and fish, 
and preach, and teach, and live in safety to 
a ripe old age, die and be buried in your 
native soil. It were better than to risk again 
that murderous Jerusalem and the unknown 
regions to which that promised, unseen pres- 
ence may send you forth. 

But these five men of Bethsaida, walking 
slowly back to their boat, see in each other's 
faces not alone the sorrow of pain at this 
farewell, but also the joy of triumphant love. 
The love of God in Jesus, their Master, a 



286 THE VANISHING OF THE PRINCE. 



love that burns for men of strange habits, 
with strange features, in strange countries, as 
well as for one's self and for one's family, 
has transformed the sorrow of forsaking 
father and mother and all for the sake of 
winning souls for Jesus, into a transcendent 

joy- 
Hoist the sail once more with your wonted 

fisherman's cry. Pull at the ropes and stand 
by the helm while the clumsy craft swings 
slowly clear and bears away toward Caper- 
naum. Laugh in the face of the angry sea 
that shall drench you never again, nor fight 
for your life till the dawn of day. Let the 
wind blow fair and the craft speed well, for 
your brethren await you at Capernaum, at 
Cana, and at Nazareth, where, in their native 
cities, they have been saying their last fare- 
wells. And, best of all, the Master will 
appear again at Jerusalem. 

The landing at Capernaum is made. The 
brethren press on for Cana. Here Bartholo- 
mew, and, perhaps, Simon join them. They 
reach Nazareth. Here, perhaps, the remain- 
der of the eleven take up the journey, and, 
leaving Tabor to watch through the centuries 
over the sweet valley of Nazareth, the eleven 



OLIVET ONCE MORE. 



289 



pass the southern borders of Galilee en route 
for Jerusalem and the ends of the earth. Nor 
do they once turn back to look. What is be- 
hind is well beloved ; that which is before is 
better loved; and already they are speaking 
of the coming meeting at Jerusalem ; and 
some of them are still maintaining that at 
this time the Messiah will take his temporal 
throne. 

The journey is once more accomplished and 
again the apostles find themselves, with many 
other disciples, in their room in Jerusalem. 
The whole company is animated. Some are 
perplexed. The great majority are certain 
that when the Master appears again he will 
take the throne. But Peter, John, and some 
others, perhaps, know better. They are per- 
plexed at the continued unbelief of their 
brethren concerning the real mission of the 
Master. 

Peter gets the ear of the company and says : 
" Brethren, ye are deceived. The Master will 
not now take the throne of his temporal power ; 
but we are to go forth and preach salvation to 
all men. Do ye not remember the words that 
he spake on the mountain in Galilee ? Mine 
opinion is that he will be seen of us here, that 



290 THE VANISHING OF THE PRINCE. 



lie will then give us further instructions, and 
that we shall see him no more. What think- 
est thou, John?'' 

^' Yea," answered John, " the Master has 
not come to be a king of our nation ; but to 
be the king of our hearts. Think not, breth- 
ren, that he will be a king of this world. We 
must go forth and preach his gospel of love 
and salvation to all the world." 

John ceases ; and the Master himself, even 
before he is visible, takes up the discourse, 
saying : ^' Thus it is written, that the Christ 
should suffer, and rise again from the dead 
the third day ; and that repentance and remis- 
sion of sins should be preached in his name 
unto all the nations, beginning from Jerusalem. 
Ye are witnesses of these things. And be- 
hold, I send forth the promise of my Father 
upon you : but tarry ye in the city, until ye 
be clothed with power from on high." 

Then there became manifest a growing ea- 
gerness on the part of the few to ask something 
of the Lord. Presently from their midst some 
one is pushed gently forth to ask the question. 
Shame-facedly he falters it forth : Lord, dost 
thou at this time restore the kingdom to 
Israel?" 



OLIVET ONCE MORE. 



291 



The words that the Master has just spoken 
have confirmed the words of Peter and John, 
and yet so hard is it to give up a cherished 
hope, even for what is really a greater good, 
though it seem less, that these men must 
needs call down upon themselves, in this last 
hour of the Master's visible presence upon 
earth, still another rebuke. He answers : ''It 
is not for you to know times or seasons, which 
the Father hath set within his own authority. 
But ye shall receive power, when the Holy 
Ghost is come upon you : and ye shall be my 
witnesses both in Jerusalem, and in all Judaea 
and Samaria, and unto the uttermost part of 
the earth." 

There is no man so happy as the man who 
believes in God, and who is ready to follow, a 
step at a time, in the way that God makes 
known from day to day. Unrest comes when 
men have formed convictions regarding what 
God ought or ought not to do, and regarding 
the time when God ought or ought not to do 
certain things. Moreover, faith in self and in 
human wisdom is continually usurping the 
place of simple faith in God. Faith in God 
makes one sure that, in the fitting times, and 
in the best ways, God will bring to pass that 



292 THE VANISHING OF THE PRINCE. 

whicli ought to be done. But faith in self 
says : ^' Certainly God must restore the king- 
dom to Israel, and now is the best time to do 
it. Let us suggest the wisdom of this course 
to the Master by the question, ' Dost thou at 
this time restore the kingdom to Israel ? 

Men certainly ought to know that God will 
certainly do what he thinks ought to be done ; 
and they ought to know that he will do it at 
the right time and in the best way. 

And here again appears the hesitancy with 
which men take hold of spiritual things. 
Perhaps it is this very persistence of these 
men in expecting a temporal kingdom that 
helped to open Paul's eyes to the fact that he 
states so clearly later : ^' The natural man 
receiveth not the things of the Spirit of God : 
for they are foolishness unto him; and he 
cannot know them, because they are spirit- 
ually judged." There is no way to account 
for the obtuseness of these men except by 
some resistance of the Spirit. This spiritual 
obtuseness is a part of the curse of sin. It 
is not so much inability to understand as it is 
desire for something more in accord with the 
natural man. Upon the presentation of 
spiritual truth there is always a certain re- 



OLIVET ONCE MORE. 



sponse in men, or at least a tendency to 
response ; but as soon as the drift of this 
truth toward self-abnegation and toward an 
unselfish surrender of the whole soul to God 
is discerned, the soul shuts itself against the 
spiritual truth that threatens the lordship of 
itself. Some portion of this obtuseness to 
spiritual truth continues through life ; but 
there comes to every soul that is finally re- 
deemed a time when a supreme change is 
wrought therein. From that time forth the 
soul has set itself to combat its own tendency 
to resist spiritual things ; and thenceforth, 
with varying degrees of earnestness, the soul 
seeks to subject the temporal to the spiritual. 

In some of these disciples this change has 
already taken place. We may suppose that 
Peter and Andrew, James and John, and per- 
haps others of them, began to understand 
more clearly the real mission of the Master. 
Some of the grosser minds still thought of 
the places of chief honor in an earthly court, 
and longed for temporal preferment. Their 
selfishness was doomed to disappointment. 
So it will ever be in the history of humanity. 
Those who seek for worldly advantage, may 
secure that ; but they will have secured it at 



294 I'HE VANISHING OF THE PRINCE. 



tHe cost of that spiritual advantage which, in 
this life's last decline, and in the dawn of the 
eternal future, will appear as the only advan- 
tage, an advantage then forever lost. 

''It is not for you to know times or sea- 
sons." Men forget themselves and become 
presumptuous. A fitting modesty would be 
content to follow in a simpler faith. Men 
look at their achievements and become pom- 
pous. It were better for men to remember 
that God supplies everything with which, and 
everything upon which, man works ; and that 
the workman himself is God's handiwork. 

With a company so obtuse was the Lord 
now about to leave the work of perpetuating 
and of extending his spiritual kingdom. But 
the day of their greater enlightenment was 
not far distant, and when once the great prin- 
ciples of the kingdom began to be understood, 
under the light of the Holy Spirit, then the 
work of enlightenment went rapidly on. 

The conversation in the apostolic chamber 
is over. The Master leads the way into the 
street and along the well-known route to the 
eastern side of the city. They pass under 
frowning Antonio to the East Gate. As they 
go through the gate, and down and over the 



OLIVET ONCE MORE. 



Kidron, the minds of the apostles are busy 
with thoughts of that dreary night about forty 
days ago, when they were following the Mas- 
ter over this very path to the garden of Geth- 
semane. At every step, as they slowly ascend 
toward the garden, the marvelous scenes of 
the past few weeks return with increasing viv- 
idness. Just there, the mob halted before the 
garden. There, Judas gave the kiss. There, 
on that grass plat at the left of the road, at 
the entrance of Gethsemane, the disciples 
were left to keep guard. Peter, James, and 
John, with flushed faces, peer farther into the 
garden to see the very stone on which, during 
the Master's agony, they slept. 

The Master leads steadily on up the hill. 
They pass Gethsemane, and continue the 
steep ascent. At last the summit is reached. 
They are now nearly a mile from the gate. 
Here they all stop, and turn to view the city 
in which, more than in any other city of the 
world, the chief interest of men for all time 
was destined to center. We do not know that 
the Master spoke a word; but no doubt the 
words that he spoke a few weeks ago, upon 
his triumphal entry, were in the minds of all. 

That sad lament over Jerusalem could not soon 

16 



296 THE VANISHING OF THE PRINCE. 

die out of the hearts of those who had so early 
seen the proof of its truth in the crucifixion 
of their Master. 

They turn again and pursue the road a lit- 
tle farther till they come over against Beth- 
any.'* There, in some beautiful retreat, near 
the way, they stop again. And again, and 
now for the last time, the Master places upon 
them his great commission. They ask many 
questions, and he answers them. He speaks 
many things of which they need to know, but 
of which they do not ask. The hour is pre- 
cious. It is the last hour of the Master's visi- 
ble presence on earth. It was the last time 
that his form was seen by mortal eye. 

He rises, still speaking: Ye shall receive 
power, when the Holy Ghost is come upon 
you." 

These poor men feel weak just now. All 
earthly hopes have continually failed. The 
Master was not at this time to displace Herod. 
He seems to have brought them to the moun- 
tain for some mysterious purpose. They are 
trembling with fear and wonder. The Lord 
has put upon them the work of carrying his 
gospel to all the world. The world seems 
large to them. Stripes and imprisonments 



OLIVET ONCE MORE. 



297 



are in full view. While the Lord is visible 
they are strong to dare and to do ; but when 
he is not seen — ah, unbelief is gone, but 
positive faith is yet weak. As they stand 
waiting for the next marvelous event in this 
strange, half unearthly life that they have 
been living these past months, their knees 
smite together and their hearts stand still. 

But here are words of helpfulness. " Ye 
shall receive power." 

Ah," says John to Peter, " the Lord hath 
seen our weakness and our fear. He promis- 
eth us power." 

"Yea," answers Peter, "he doth not forget 
his own pain in Gethsemane and on Golgotha. 
I am glad that he knoweth our weakness." 

" Ye shall receive power, after that the Holy 
Ghost is come upon you." 

" What is that he saith, John ? The Holy 
Ghost?" 

" Yea, Peter, it is the promise of his Father. 
The Spirit of God shall come upon us. It is 
an awful thought ; but we shall certainly 
have power then. Hark, what further saith 
he?" 

Pointing to Jerusalem the Master adds : 
" Ye shall be my witnesses both in Jerusalem, 
and in all Judea — " 



298 THE VANISHING OF THK PRINCE. 



Then pointing farther north toward Ebal 
and Gerizim — and Samaria — " 

The Master's form seems more spiritual 
than a moment since I Indeed he is not stand- 
-ing on the earth now ! He hovers over them, 
and, stretching his pointing, pierced hands 
abroad, he slowly turns in an ascending spiral, 
pointing successively to every strange scene 
and to every far-off shore and to every thick- 
ened jungle as he speaks the last words that 
ever fell from his lips upon mortal ears — 

" And unto the uttermost part of the earth." 

Bound by the awful spell, the brethren 
whom he loved and who loved him with all 
their hearts, stand gazing into heaven. The 
well-known form continues to ascend, still 
pointing everywhere. His last words, no 
longer audible, are ringing in their ears. A 
cloud enfolds him and he is gone. But still, 
spell-bound, they gaze after him and worship 
him. 

They are recalled to earth by the words 
of two strange men, white appareled, who say 
to them : ^' Ye men of Galilee, why stand ye 
looking into heaven ? this Jesus, which was 
received up from you into heaven, shall so 




PaccJi ia rotto. 

THK ASCENSION. 



OLIVEI" ONCE MORE. 



301 



come in like manner as ye beheld him going 
into heaven." 

They are left alone. Yet not alone. Here 
is a still further preparation for the coming of 
the Holy Spirit. Before, they have thought 
of the body of the Lord as present, though 
unseen. But now that body has been taken 
np and is seated at the right hand of God. 
These poor men must now abandon even the 
comfort of a present, though unseen and spir- 
itual body of their Master. There is no help 
for them now unless they can go still one step 
farther and know their Master in a purely 
spiritual sense. 

They arise and walk toward Jerusalem. 
Peter suddenly addresses John with a note of 
great anxiety in his voice. 

" John, did not the Master say : ^ Lo, I am 
with you alway, even unto the end of the 
world'? But now hath he gone before our 
very eyes back into heaven ! 

They walk on some distance in silence. 
Then, in the intenseness of his thought, John 
stands still, and Peter stops beside him. 

At length John speaks : " Peter, remember- 
est thou what the Lord said to the woman 
of Samaria that time when he rested at noon 



302 THE VANISHING OF THE PRINCE. 



upon the curb of Jacob's well? He said: 
' God is a Spirit : and they tbat worship him 
must worship him in spirit and in truth.' Si- 
mon, what thinkest thou ? The Master said : 
' I and the Father are one.' And but a little 
while ago he said : ' The promise of my Father 
shall come upon you, tarry for the Holy 
Spirit in Jerusalem.' What thinkest thou, 
Simon, when the Holy Spirit cometh will he 
not be our very Master again with us ? no 
more as mortal man, no more as man made 
immortal, but as he was and as he is in his 
real nature, spirit ? " 

" Ah, John, thou hast a discerning soul. 
But for me — I doubt not thou art right — I 
am slow to understand. I must first think 
of him as I knew him when his hand of fiesh 
took hold of my hand of flesh to pull me out 
of the waves on Galilee ; then I must remem- 
ber him as he appeared to me that morning 
on the shore, when he ate fish, but yet was 
all at once unseen, as if he were both mortal 
and immortal ; and then — O John, I must 
wait in Jerusalem for the promise of the 
Spirit ! O, may I know him then, my very 
Lord ! " 



OLIVET ONCE MORE. 303 

Overcome by his emotion, Peter hurries on. 

But the truth is gaining ground. And 
the record tells that these men went back 
to their room in Jerusalem and spent the 
hours of waiting in joy. They even went 
at the appointed hour of worship to the tem- 
ple and there praised God. The faith to 
rejoice and to praise was theirs. But they 
were waiting for that deeper power of the 
Spirit which should overwhelm their personal 
joy in the nobler joy of following the pointing 
finger of their ascended Master. 



FINIS. 



THE HARMONY. 



[305] 

I 



A HARMONY OF THE GOSPELS 

RIJSPKCTING THK LIFK OF CHRIST FROM THK TRI- 
UMPH AI, ENTRY TO the; ASCKNSION. 



The Triumphal Entry. 

The ass's colt sent for 

Fulfilment of prophecy 

Colt brought; garments placed; 
mounts 



Garments and branches are spread 

The multitude shouts 

Pharisees complain 

First lament over Jerusalem 

Jerusalem stirred 

Entered the temple ; evening 

Last Days in Jerusalem. 

Retired to Bethany 

In the morning cursed the fig-tree . . 

Cleansed the temple 

Attempt to destroy him 

I^odged at Bethany 

Returned in the morning 

The fig-tree withered 

Disciples wonder at the miracle 

The power of believing prayer 

Forgive as ye pray 

Blind and lame healed 

Children crying in the temple 

Indignation of the priests 

Teaching in the temple 

Demand Christ's authority 

Confounded by his answer 

Parable of the two sons 



21 : 1-3 
4-5 


n:i-3 




6-7 
8 


4-7 

8 


9 


9-10 



18-19 
12-13 



19 

20 

21-22 



14 
15 
15-16 



23 

24-27 
28-32 



Mark. 



II 

12-14 

15-17 



22-24 

25 



27-29 
30-33 



LrtTKE. 
19:28-31 



32-35 

36 

37-38 
39-40 
41-44 



45-46 
47-48 
21:37 
38 



37-38 
20:1-2 

3-8 



John. 

12:14 
14-16 

14 

12-13 
13 



[7-19 



20-50 



[307] 



3o8 



HARMONY OF l^HE OOSpHLS. 



70 



Parable of the heir slain 

Application to the Jews 

Attempt to take him 

Parable of the marriage feast 

Tried by Pharisees— Tribute 

Tried by Sadducees— Resurrection. 

Second attempt by Pharisees 

" What think ye of Christ ? " 

Scribes and Pharisees condemned. . 

Second lament over Jerusalem 

The Widow's Mite 



Discourse on final things 

In two days cometh Passover 

Warning of the crucifixion 

Plot of priests and elders 

Anointed at Bethany 

Treachery of Judas 

The Passover. 

Preparation for 

" One of you shall betray me" 

" Is it I, Lord ? " "Who is it?".... 

" Hand is with me in the dish " 

" Woe unto that man." 

" Is it I, Rabbi ? " " Thou hast said. 

Judas went out 

The Lord's Supper 

Worldly ambition rebuked 

Discourses to the disciples 

" Whither I go ye cannot come ". . . 

(Peter willing to die for Christ) 

" I^et not your heart be troubled ". 
"Arise, let us go hence." 

Discourse continued on the way 

They cross the Kidron 



Matt. 

21:33-41 
42-45 
46 

22:1-14 
15-22 
23-33 
34-40 
41-46 

23:1-36 
37-39 



Chs. 

24-25 



26:1-2 
3-5 
6-13 
14-16 

17-19 

20-21 

22 

23 

24 

25 



26-30 



Mark. 
12:1-9 

10- II 

12 



13-17 
18-27 
28-34 
35-37 
38-40 



41-44 
Ch. 13 
14:1 



1-2 
3-9 



12-16 

17-18 
19 
20 
21 



22-26 



L,UKE. 

20:9-16 

19 



20-26 
27-40 



41-44 

45-47 



21:1-4 
5-36 



3-6 

7-13 
21 

23 



14-20 
24-30 



John. 



13:21 
22-25 
26-29 



30 



31-35 
36-38 
14:1-31 

31 
Chs. 
15-17 
18:1 



HARMONY OF THE GOSPELS. 309 



In the Mount of Olives. 

" All ye shall be offended " 

After the resurrection, Galilee 

Peter and all protest fidelity 

Hereafter go out prepared 

Qethsemane. 

lyeaves the disciples at the gate 

Takes Peter, James, and John 

Goes forward and prays ; sweat . . . 

Returns ; disciples sleeping 

Goes a second time to pray 

Returns a second time ; sleeping. . 

Goes a third time to pray 

Angel strengthens him 

Returns third time ; sleeping 

Announces the betrayal 

The Betrayal. 

|- Judas and the mob come 

' ' Whom seek ye ? " " I^et these go, 

" Hail, Rabbi." The kiss 

"Do that for which thou art come.') 

The sword stroke ; reproved 

Taken 

Address to the mob 

Scripture fulfilled ; all flee 

Before Caiaphas 

Peter in outer court 

Seeking false witness 

High priest's adjuration 

Call for verdict, ' ' Worthy of death. ' ' 

Insulted 

Peter's Denial. 

First accusation and denial 

The first cock-crowing.. 

Second accusation and denial ; oaths 



Matt. 

26:31 
32 

33-35 



36 

37-38 
39 

40-41 
42 
43 
44 



Mark 

14:27 
28 

29-31 



47 



48-49 
50 
51-54 
50 
55 
56 
57 
58 

59-61 
62-64 
65-66 
67-68 

69-70 

71-72 



32 

33-34 
35-36 
37-38 
39 
40 



43 



44-45 



lyUKE. 



22:31-34 
35-38 



47 

46 

48- 49 

49- 52 

53 
54 

55-59 

60-63 

64 

65 

66-68 
68 

69-70 



3IO HARMONY OF THE GOSPELS. 



Pg- 

103 

103 
104 



74 
110 



115 

117 
118 
117 
122 
124 
124 
127 
127 
130 
130 
130 
128 
134 
134 
128 
133 
129 

133 
134 
133 
133 
134 

133 

134 
139 



Third accusation and denial ; cursing 

The second cock-crowing 

The Lord looked upon Peter 

Peter weeps 

Plot his death and lead to Pilate .... 
j. Doom of Judas; the potter's field . . 
Before Pilate. 

Accused of claiming to be King of 
the Jews 



First conference with Jesus 

" So he openeth not his mouth " . . . 

First acquittal 

Second acquittal, by Herod 

Third acquittal , 

First attempt to release Jesus 

Dream of Pilate's wife 

Priests and elders electioneer 

Call for the release of Barabbas 

Second attempt to release Jesus 

First call to crucify Jesus 

Fourth acquittal 

The assumption of blood 

Third attempt to release Jesus 

Scourged and mocked 

Fifth acquittal 

"Ecce Homo." 

Second call to crucify 

Sixth acquittal 

" He made himself the Son of God. 

Second conference with Jesus 

Fourth attempt to release Jesus 

"Behold your King" 

Third call to crucify 

Delivered up 

Jesus Mocked and Insulted 



Matt, 

26:73-74 
74 



75 

27:1-2 

3-10 



II 

12-14 



15-18 

19 

20 

21 

22 

22- 23 

23- 24 
25 



26 

27-31 



Mark. 
14:70-71 
72 



72 
15:1 



2 

3-5 



6-10 



15 
16-20 



Luke. 

22:59-60 
60 
61 
62 



23:1-2 
3 



4 

5-12 

13-15 

16 



18-19 



23 

24-25 



John. 

18:26-27 
27 



29-32 
33-3B 



38 



39 



[9:1-3 
4 
5 
6 
6 
7 

8-1 1 
12 

13-14 

15 

16 



HARMONY OF THE GOSPELS. 



Via Dolorosa. 

Jesus bears his own cross 

Later Simon bears the cross for him 

Address to the wailing women 

Golgotha and the Cross. 

Wine and gall tasted and refused. . . 

Third hour; crucified 

"Father, forgive them " 

Dividing the spoil 

Watching 

His accusation written 

Robbers on either side 

Reviled 

The thief on the cross 

Darkness from sixth to ninth hours 

"Eli, Eli " 

The cry misunderstood 

"I thirst " 

Vinegar offered, denied, received 

"Into thy hands I commend my 
spirit" 



Loud cry, " It is finished;" death., 
niracles Attending His Death. 

Veil of the temple rent 

Earthquake; rocks rent 

Saints raised from the dead 

Witnesses. 

Centurion's testimony 

Multitude smiting their breasts 

Many women from Galilee 

The Burial. 

Legs of thieves broken ; Jesus 
pierced 



Joseph begs the body; granted 

In Joseph's tomb; stone rolled up. 



Matt. 



27:32 



33-34 
35 



35 
36 
37 
38 

39-44 



48-49 



51 

52-53 



54 

55-56 



57-58 
59-60 



Mark. 



22-23 
24-25 



26 
27 

28-^2 



36 



37 



38 



39 



42-45 
46 



LUKK. 



23:26 
27-31 



312 HARMONY OF THE GOSPELS. 



Pg- 

176 

177 
177 

185 
183 



189 
195 
196 



190 
190 

190 
190 
195 
195 
195 
183 
184 
201 

218 
222 



Witnesses. 

The two Marys were there 

The Body Made Fast in tlie Tomb. 

Request to secure the tomb ; granted 

Stone sealed; guard set 

The Dawn of the First Lord's Day. 

Mary and women coming to the tomb 

Angel; earthquake; stone rolled 
away 

Watchers as dead men 



Mary Magdalene runs to Peter and 
John 



Peter and John run to the tomb 

While Mary is gone and Peter and 
John are coming, the other wom- 
en enter 



Conversation with the angel 

Women flee, alarmed 

Peter and John arrive and enter 

Peter and John go home 

Mary returns and stands weeping. . . 

I^ooks in and sees an angel 

Conversation with the angel 

Turns and sees the gardener 

Conversation with him 

Appearances to the Disciples. 

" Rabboni," first appearance 

Women return and see Jesus 

Message of Jesus to the disciples 

Mary and the women report 

Disciples do not believe 

The guard reports to the priests 

Priests and elders bribe the soldiers 

The walk to Emmaus; second ap- 
pearance 

First lyord's day ; third appearance 

Doubting Thomas 



Matt. 



27:61 



62-65 
66 



2- 3 

3- 4 



8-9 
10 



II 

12-15 



Mark. 



15:47 



16:1-3 
4 



5 

6-7 



12-13 



lyUKE. 



23:55-56 



24:1 



3-4 
5-7 



8-10 
II 



13-35 
36-47 



John. 



4-9 

10 

II 

11-12 

13 

14 

15-17 



19-23 
24-25 



HARMONY OF THE GOSPELS. 



253 

274 

278 

278 
29S 

283 
297 



Second Lord's day; fourth appear 
ance 



Many other signs 

At Tiberias ; fifth appearance. . . 

In the mountain ; sixth appearance 
Jesus claims all authority 



j- The great commission 

/ The promise of the unseen pres- 
)' ence 



The ascension ; seventh appearance 



Matt. 



28:16- 



16: 14 



17-18 
t9 



24:48-49 
50-53 



John. 

20: 26-29 

30-31 
21:1-23 



17 



SCRIPTURE INDEX, 



[3 



SCRIPTURE INDEX. 



JOB. Page. 
4: 13 271 
4: 14 271 
4: 15 271 

PSALMS. 
25:5 

ISAIAH. 
53:3 172 
53:7 

63:3 68 

DANIEL- 

2 : 45 30 

MATTHEW. 

11 : 15- 199 

12 : 30 81 

21:5- 27 

21:9 27 

21:10. 36 

21 : II 39 

21 : 13 •• 47 

21:15 48 

21 : 16 50 

23 : 15 70 

23:17 70 



23 
23 
26 
26 
26 
26 
26 
26 
26 
26 
26 
26 
26 
26 
26 
27 
27 
27 
27 
27 
27 
27 
27 
27 
27 



Page. 

27 107, 70 

28. 70 

21 72 

22 72 

25 72 

34 255 

38 55 

39- 56, 61 

40. 61 

41 •••• 64 

45 68 

49 84 

62 100 

63 TOO 

66 103 

4 Ill 

24 134 

25 152, 134 

40. ■ • • • 165 

42, 43 165 

46 170 

49- 170 

54 180, 173 

63, 64 177 

63 196, 195 

317 



3i8 



SCRIPTURE INDEX. 



28 : 5, 6 188 

28 : 10 242, 195 

28 : 16. 265 

28 : 17 275 

28 : 18 278 

28 : 20. . . 301, 283, 280 

MARK. 

4 : 39 • 193 

11:9- 149 

12 : 37 79 

14 : 29. . . 254 

14 : 50 92 

15 : 12. 130 

15 : I3-- 130 

15 : 14 •• •• 133 

16:3 185 

16:12 204 

16 : 15 279, 278 

16:16 281, 280 

LUKE. 

9:51 19 

17 : 5 277 

19 •39- • 34 

19:41-44. 34 

22 : 48. 84 

22:52,53 91 

22 : 64 104 

22 : 67. 106 

22 : 69 106 

22 : 70. 103 

23 : 2 115 



23 : 4- 117 

23 : 25. • • ^ 138 

23 : 28-31. 151 

23 : 34- • 158 

23 : 39- 166 

23 : 42. 167 

23 : 43- 167 

23 : 46. 171 

24 : 6, 7 189 

24 : 16 204 

24 : 17- 203 

24 : 18. 203 

24 : 19- 203 

24 : 21 207 

24 : 22-24. 210 

24 : 25 212,211 

24 : 25, 26 211 

24 : 32 217 

24 : 34 218 

24 : 36-39 219 

24 : 41-43. 220 

24 : 46 89 

24 : 46-49. . = 290 

JOHN. 

1:4. 166 

2 : 16 44 

4:21 189 

4 ^24 302 

5 : 28, 29. 200 

5 : 29 200 

7 : 15 197 



SCRIPTURE INDEX. 



7 : 46 197 

10 : 17, 18 199 

10 : 30 302 

13-25 72 

13 : 26 72 

13:27. 72 

13 : 33 233 

13 : 36-. 233 

15 :5---- 67 

18 : 4 83 

18 : 5 83 

18 : 7 83 

18 : 8 84 

18 : II 

.. 158, 91, 90, 89, 87 

18 : 20, 21 96 

18 : 29 112 

18 : 30 112 

18 : 31. 115 

18 : 33 117 

18 : 37 117 

18 : 38 -^.^ 117 

19 : 4 128 

19 : 5 129 

19:6. 133 

19 : 7-- - •• 133 

19 : 8 133 

19 : 12. 134 

19 : 19 162 

19 : 21 162 

19 : 22. . . 166 



19 : 23 160 

19 : 24 162 

19 : 26, 27 169 

19 : 28 171 

19 : 30 171 

19 36. ■ • • 174 

19 : 37- 174 

20 : 13 188, 187 

20 : 15 190 

20 : 16. 190 

20 : 17. 194 

20 : 25 226 

20 : 26. 227 

20 : 27. 229 

20 : 28. 239, 229 

20 : 29. 240, 229 

21:3- 251 

21 : 5- 253 

21:6. 253 

21 : 7- • • 253 

21:12. 254 

21 : 15 257, 256 

21 : 16. 257 

21 : 17 258 

21 : 18. ............ . 259 

21 : 19 259 

21 : 21 260 

21 : 22 263 

ACTS. 

I : 6 292, 290 

1:7 294 



320 



SCRIPTURE INDEX. 



I : 7, 8 291 

I : 8 . . . . 298, 297, 296 

1 : II 298 

ROMANS. 

48 

8:7 108 

I CORINTHIANS. 

2 : 14 • . • 292, 105 

i 



II CORINTHIANS. 



2 : 16 XII 

KPHESIANS. 
6 : 12 150 

HEBREWS. 

II : 27 240 

I JOHN. 

2 : 15 75 

4:8 160 



